


Black Sheep

by illwynd



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crushes, Daddy Kink, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Issues, M/M, No Underage Sex, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Praise Kink, Teasing, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Violence, oddly wholesome intergenerational incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-19 16:16:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22047022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illwynd/pseuds/illwynd
Summary: Nineteen-year-old Thor makes a dumb mistake, and his father’s response is to kick him out of the house. Who else does Thor have to turn to but the family outcast, his uncle Loki?Loki is more surprised by this than anyone. But Thor’s arrival on his doorstep is only the start of it, and who knows what will happen when the secrets start coming out.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 418
Kudos: 429





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I feel compelled to give readers a heads up that this is not a typical uncle Loki fic and may not adhere to expectations of the genre. If the "oddly wholesome intergenerational incest" tag squicks you, please backbutton now. 
> 
> The rest of you, enjoy!

It was the dreariest part of January when Thor got kicked out of the house.

The white snow of the holidays had turned to grey sludge in the gutters and treacherous ice everywhere else, the smell of salt and auto exhaust lingering in the bitter cold air—the sort of cold that crept through even the thickest winter coat, trickling damp into the toes of boots as Thor trudged along the sidewalk, shivering and hefting his heavy backpack by its strap every few steps, shoulders hunched over under the chill and the weight.

He had plenty of places he could go, of course, plenty of places here in town—just a mile and a half's hike to Sif's place, where he could beg to sleep on the ratty old couch in her family's basement. Just a little farther to the guys' place, the big apartment Fandral and Hogun and Volstagg all rented together, where he would be welcomed with open arms.

He had started walking thinking that was what he was going to do, but with each tramping step he wanted to less and less.

Odin's enraged shouts were still ringing in his ears. The horrible, queasy feeling of stuffing everything he cared about into his backpack as fast as he could while Mom tried to calm Dad down enough to take it back.

He didn't want to have to explain to his friends what had happened, beyond the parts they already knew. He didn't want Sif's quiet commiseration or the guys' attempts to distract him from it all. Above all, he didn't want to be just a mile or two from home, as if this were something that would blow over in a few days and he'd be back in his room again like nothing had happened.

He didn't want any of that, and he found himself heading for the bus station at the edge of town.

An hour later he stood under fluorescent lights in a dingy waiting room only a little warmer than the outdoors, trying to smile at the woman on the other side of the scuffed counter, behind the thick glass, as he asked for the next bus to the city and counted out crumpled bills.

She looked back at him impassively as he sniffled, barely stopping himself from wiping his runny nose on his sleeve like a kid, and slid the ticket to him through the slot.

"Thanks," he muttered, feeling awkward and cold and alone.

There were only a few other people in the station amid the rows of empty seats, and he picked one at random and slumped down into it, leaning on his bulging backpack at his side, trying not to think about what had happened, trying not to think about what he was doing, and thinking of nothing else.

It was probably stupid. No, it was _definitely_ stupid. Impulsive. He just didn't know what else to do.

After half an hour he got up, stretching stiff legs, and wandered over to the vending machines and fed them a couple more crumpled bills for a soda and a candy bar, trying to convince himself that he felt shaky and weak just because he was hungry.

Then back to the hard yellow plastic where he ate his candy mindlessly, fidgeting in his seat as he thought again about the fight, about everything his father had said. Harsh words escalating until Thor was yelling back, unable to control himself, and he'd hated it, because Dad was always right, in every argument, and everything he said was true.

The chocolate only helped a little, the tense knot of nausea in the empty pit of Thor's stomach still there after he'd thrown the wrapper in the trash. And for the next hour Thor took out his phone about a hundred times, sliding the screen and pulling up the address book, scrolling down just to make sure the number was there but never calling. He didn't want to call before he was in the city, even though it was stupid. Even though he had no way of knowing if his uncle would be home. Even though he had no reason to believe his uncle would agree to let him stay. Even though he hadn't talked to his uncle in years and didn't have his address.

It was definitely stupid, but it was the only thing he could imagine doing, and he didn’t want to have to turn back. Uncle Loki was the only person Thor could imagine talking to after what had happened. So that was where he was going, even though all he had was hope.

* * *

"Come on, kiddo," Loki called from the driveway, from one in a series of perpetual rusted old beaters, and Thor—13 and brimming with excitement at the prospect of spending the day with his uncle—came sprinting down the walkway and near vaulted into the passenger's seat.

Loki didn't turn up very often, but that summer he stayed with them for several weeks, sleeping on their couch at night and largely keeping Thor entertained during the day. Taking him to the park, to the zoo, to the carnival, joking with him and ruffling his hair but treating him in a way that no one else really did.

It made Thor's stomach do flips for reasons he didn't understand, but he liked it.

It was worse in the evenings, when they were all home and everything grew tense, with his parents pretending this was just an ordinary family visit while asking if Loki had gotten his situation sorted out yet. Mom's lips a tight line, a strained smile over the dinner table when Loki shook his head and said maybe a few more days, and Dad glowering at Loki in response. The heavy disapproval in the air, and the sharp words floating up through the floors after Thor had been sent to bed.

That tension in the air—it made the strange feeling in Thor's belly worse. The feeling of disloyalty at how much he liked spending time with his uncle, how much he looked forward to it. The secret excitement of thinking that someone like Loki would want to spend time with him, and the shame dogging its heels, knowing that Loki was not someone he was supposed to admire, with his messy black mop and his lip ring glinting in the suburban sunlight when he grinned.

One memorable night, Loki even took him to a punk rock concert that his parents definitely hadn't approved beforehand.

And the next day, Loki left, trailing a cloud of blue exhaust from the Plymouth's tailpipe, and Thor had watched him drive off, a wretched sense of loss and guilt stewing in his insides, feeling Dad's wrath burning quiet beside him. He'd been half asleep when they'd gotten home after midnight, barely remembered clambering out of the car, but definitely remembered finding Mom and Dad waiting up for them, and the bolt of fear coursing through him at the sight of their faces.

From his bed he'd listened to the raised voices for what felt like hours.

_Degenerate... criminal... can't keep a job..._

_Fucking tyrant. Just like our dad. You think I'm going to let anything happen to..._

_Do you even care what sort of influence you are?_

He heard his own name spoken in lower tones and he felt like he could barely breathe, wondering.

In the weeks that followed, his father sat him down and explained to him that Loki had wasted all the resources the family had given him. That Loki had gone down a bad path and didn't deserve their help anymore. And that Thor was expected to become more than a bum like his uncle. That he had potential and he wasn't going to be allowed to squander it.

The words sat in Thor's belly like coals, heavy and painful. But it was his father telling him, so he believed it, and there was nothing he could say.

* * *

Three hours later the bus spat him and his backpack out onto the city streets, just as the white wintry light of day was starting to fade, flashing between the tall buildings in its last gasps. The temperatures were also dropping even colder than they'd been, and Thor shivered as he stepped outside, onto wet slushy sidewalks littered with cigarette butts, glittering shards of broken bottles.

He stood there for a few minutes, feeling lost and uncertain, before he finally made himself call, pressing buttons with fingers already half numb.

It rang.

Two rings, and Thor hoped his uncle hadn't changed his number. The silence between rings dragged on long enough for the whole scenario to play out in his mind: some stranger answering, and him being left here on the sidewalk, alone and almost broke and with nowhere to go.

It rang again.

This had been stupid.

Five rings. 

He should have just gone to Sif's place. He should have at least called first.

Seven—

Loki sounded half asleep as he answered, a raspy hello.

"Loki? Uncle Loki?" Thor stammered over the sound of a bus horn blaring nearby. "It's... Thor. Your nephew. Dad kicked me out."

There was a pause, a little bit of static. "Thor? Where are you?" Concern in Loki's voice.

"Um..." Thor spun around to look up at the street post. "Fifth and J."

"You're in the city? Right now?"

"Yeah."

There was silence on the line for a second and Thor's heart stuttered at the thought that Loki might have just hung up and left him there. But then there was another crackle of static and Loki telling him the number of the city transit route that would bring him closest, and his exact address.

"You've got a few bucks for bus fare, right, kiddo?" Loki asked at the end of it.

_Kiddo._ That old endearment. Warm and comfortable in a way that now felt utterly foreign to him. "Yeah, I do," Thor said again, clutching tight to his phone. He was still upset from that morning but there was a sense of anticipation growing up alongside it, weaving in with it like a climbing weed. This wasn't the first time he'd been away from home—he'd lived in the dorms for most of the last two years. But it was the first time it had been like this. If he hadn't felt so awful, it would have almost been like an adventure. "So I guess I'll be there soon."

"I'll be waiting. Call me again if you have trouble."

Thor thanked him and hung up, then took a deep breath and set about finding the number 10 bus.

* * *

It had been three more years after the night of the disastrous concert before he saw his uncle again, and by that time everything had changed.

He was no longer naive, and he understood that his father really had been right. He'd seen the pictures in the photo albums, the skinny, shady-looking dark-haired kid next to his dad, looking completely out of place in a way Thor never wanted to be. He'd gone to Grandma Bestla's funeral, and Loki hadn't been there (though Thor wasn't actually sure that anyone had invited him or told him it was happening) but he had certainly been the topic of more than a few family stories that Thor had never heard before.

And more than that, Dad had started pushing Thor to think about his future, and he _had_ been. Straight A's in all the advanced classes. Sports and extracurriculars, even things that stressed him out, because Dad said it would be good for him, that it was all skills he needed to learn.

In three years, he'd become a completely different person, and he had far too many other things to think about to even really remember he _had_ an uncle.

And then one day, out of the blue, the doorbell rang.

It was a school day, one of the rare ones when he got home before his parents, so he was the one to answer, swinging the door open to find Uncle Loki on the other side.

"Dad's not home yet," he said, feeling himself frowning, uneasy.

In those three years, Thor had grown enough that he barely had to look up to meet Loki's eyes, and that made it even stranger, seeing him again after so long.

Loki looked him up and down, a little grin playing on his lips. "Well, is it alright with you if I come in to wait for him?"

And though something prickled under Thor's skin, he couldn't think of a reason to refuse. Loki was still family, after all. So Thor nodded and stood back awkwardly, gesturing him through the door and leading him into the kitchen, offering him something to drink out of basic politeness but not at all sure what to do or what to say.

Smalltalk for a few minutes, with Dad's voice ringing in his head telling him that Uncle Loki had always been a bad seed, and Loki looking at him like he was trying to solve some puzzle.

Thor took the only excuse he could think of, mumbling something about having a lot of homework before opening his physics textbook on the kitchen counter and trying to hide behind it.

But Loki hadn't really let him.

"So you're in the advanced classes?" Loki asked, tilting his head to study the book's spine.

Thor nodded, biting his lip.

"Always knew you were a smart one."

A curl of pleasure inside him, warming at the praise. It made him suddenly angry, upset, knuckles white as he gripped the book.

"What's wrong, kiddo?"

"Nothing," he answered, but it was almost a snarl. "And I'm not a kid. I'm 16."

But Loki only gave a soft laugh. "I didn't realize you'd grown up since I saw you last. My apologies, my dear very adult nephew."

Thor didn't know why he blushed then but he did, until all he could do was bury his face in his book and hope that his parents would get home soon.

*


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving at Loki's place turns into an evening of old stories and new revelations.

Thor found the address easily. It was harder to make himself knock on the door.

He'd never visited Loki before. Loki had always been the one to come to visit them, and Thor had no idea what to expect from his place. He hadn't thought about this part—hadn't thought it through much further than the phone call, and all at once he felt nervous. The neighborhood he'd walked through from the bus stop was full of shadows and the distant rumble of traffic, alleyway smells and something that was either a too-loud television or people fighting.

But the cold was a good motivator, and Loki answered the door almost at once, ushering him in.

Inside, it was warm, and Thor gazed around in suspicious wonder.

Faint scents of tobacco smoke and incense. On the walls, posters for bands he'd never heard of, black-and-white photos, rusty-edged metal signs. A guitar propped against the bookshelf, and the bookshelf crammed with titles Thor didn't recognize. A hint of color from the string of tiny Christmas lights hung around the corners of the ceiling, as mood lighting.

"Do you want a beer?" Loki asked as Thor set his stuff down by the end of the threadbare green couch.

"I'm not 21 yet."

Loki gave him an enigmatic half-grin. "That wasn't a _no_ , though, was it?"

He returned from the kitchen a minute later, two brown glass bottles in his hands, offering one to Thor before taking a seat beside him.

Thor took it and took a swig. It certainly wasn't the first beer he'd had, but they'd been few and far between.

"All right," Loki said after taking a drink himself. "Now tell me what happened."

So Thor did.

He tried to start at the beginning, but it was too easy to get tangled up in the story. He was still too emotional about it all.

There had been protests at his university, and he'd gone even though he should have been studying. He'd just... wanted to. It felt important. He'd been raised to care about people; Dad had always told him that he was responsible for doing good where he could. So he'd been there when it started to get rough. And he'd recognized the girl from one of his classes, a tiny thing with long dark hair, and he'd seen it when the cop threw her down on the sidewalk. He'd heard her screaming for help.

"Go on," Loki urged gently when Thor paused, trying to put the words in order, trying to force them past the lump in his throat.

"Well, I tried to help... and Mom and Dad had to come bail me out of jail," Thor said with a weak laugh, trying to shrug it off.

His parents had been furious, of course. His father smoldering with rage that made Thor cringe in the back seat for the entire ride home, aware and ashamed that his mother was dabbing tears from her eyes because of him. He'd spent days afterward just listening to Odin on the phone downstairs, voice raised in that not-quite-yell that still made Thor's pulse race just the same as it had when he was a little kid, and this time it was his dad pulling strings to sweep the incident under the rug, while Thor sat on his bed, feeling sick to his stomach.

But even though it'd been worked down to a fine and probation, the school wouldn't take him back. And it was going on his record. He'd screwed his whole life up, or so his dad told him.

"What was I supposed to do?" Thor protested, trying to explain, trying to say something that would make Dad understand. "You always taught me to help people!"

"I never taught you to throw your life away for someone who’s trying to cause trouble!" Odin replied, cold and hard as steel.

And the argument had turned into a fight, the worst one Thor had ever been in with his father, a pit opening up in his stomach as Odin told him how much of a disappointment he was. How he'd sullied the family name and was lucky that Odin had not just disowned him and let him sort out his own mess.

And even then it might have been salvaged, except he'd gotten angry—at himself, mostly—and done the unthinkable.

He’d yelled that maybe Odin should have. Maybe Thor didn't want to be part of the family anymore.

* * *

Thor fell silent then.

The story had all poured out of him between sips of beer and now it was gone and the alcohol was hitting his mostly empty stomach and making everything go a little swimmy. As if he hadn't already been shaky and wrecked.

For a few minutes, his uncle just took it in, watching him as he got a hold of himself again.

“That's the trouble with my brother,” Loki mused at last. “When he's sure he's right, there's no arguing with him. And anyone who tries is simply on the wrong side and deserves whatever they get."

Unhappily, Thor nodded.

"If it helps at all, I understand why you did it. I mean, it wasn't smart, though you know that already. But it was a _good_ thing to do. It shows you've got a good heart, kiddo, so even if you have to find some other school to go to... Thor?"

The tears had surged up all at once while his uncle was talking, and Thor tried to hold them back but couldn't. He wiped them away from his eyes over and over, looked away, choked back a sob.

" _Was_ it good?" he asked, voice thin and raspy with emotion.

Loki frowned and reached over to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "What do you mean? Of course it was. You were trying to help someone."

Another choked breath. “But... Dad's right, though, isn’t he? I... it was stupid and I didn't help and all that happened is I fucked up my own future.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that. You've got lots of future, and not all of it depends on you going to that particular school or having a squeaky-clean record,” Loki said with a shrug. “But either way, you did it out of compassion. That's hardly the worst reason to screw up.”

Thor shook his head and hunched his shoulders, unable to stop the tears but trying to ignore them.

“So was that how you screwed up?” he asked after a few long, awkward moments.

The question made Loki laugh aloud. "What, am I the voice of experience now? What makes you think I screwed up?"

Thor blinked, and Loki laughed again.

"All right, I'm sure your dad would agree with you that I did. So would your grandpa. And no, if I did, it wasn't out of compassion."

"So what did happen?" Thor asked, slouching back against the couch cushions. "Between you and the rest of the family, I mean. Nobody ever really explained."

Loki eyed him. "You sure you want to hear it? There's a lot of stories there. We could be here all night."

Thor wanted the distraction. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

Loki had also stayed with them for a while when Thor was 9. That visit had been uneventful, mostly because Dad had been working so much he wasn’t really around, and Mom had been busy too, so they were glad to have Loki there to watch him.

Later all Thor really remembered was a very happy couple of weeks.

It was the first time Thor could remember having an adult around who didn't only care whether he'd done his homework and eaten his vegetables and behaved himself. They played video games together or threw a ball around out in the yard but more often they just talked, and for Thor it was a revelation. Uncle Loki _listened to him_. Teased him sometimes, yes, but even when he teased he seemed to take Thor more seriously than his father did.

Thor moped for a month after Loki left, that time, until Odin noticed and told him to stop acting like a child.

* * *

"Your dad and I were close, a long time ago," Loki said, chin perched on his hand. "When we were kids, our father—your grandpa Bor—used to call himself the general, and we were his little soldiers, meant to march to his direction. Your dad and I used to make that bearable by seeing which of us could outsmart his orders the best. It was a good job if you could manage to not have to do whatever it was, _without_ getting punished for laziness or disobedience. We were a solid team, for a while."

Thor tried to imagine it—his father, coming up with clever means of disobedience—but the image just didn't fit. "So what changed?"

Loki thought for a moment and shrugged. "Lots of things, really. Odin started taking after our dad, and I started making my own way, doing things differently. By the time we were in high school, I'd made it clear that I had no intention of living up to the family's expectations. There were more than a few fights, more than a few threats of what would happen to me if I didn't straighten up and fly right. There may have been a barbecue with all the extended family, all the aunts and uncles and cousins and distant relations, where I managed to insult pretty much everyone. After that, things quickly became so unpleasant that I left as soon as I could and never really looked back."

"Except you didn't," Thor said.

"Hm?"

"How many times did you come visit and sleep on our couch? I mean, you still kept in touch with Dad, obviously."

Loki looked at him and grinned. "Well, family is family. Odin believes that, so I figured I may as well take advantage when I needed a place to crash a few times." Then Loki glanced down at the empty bottle in his own hand, shook it for good measure. "You want another beer while I'm up?" he asked.

Absently, Thor nodded.

* * *

Loki had told him a lot of stories already that night. Old family dirt that Thor never knew about. Stories he'd never heard, things he'd wondered but never had the guts to ask. Years of unsatisfied curiosity fulfilled in a couple hours in his uncle's living room.

And he'd known, even when he was younger, that Loki came to visit when he needed a place to stay. That should have come as no surprise. But right at the moment he needed to know whether Loki had actually enjoyed spending time with him—or if his younger self had been made so happy by someone who was just putting up with him, babysitting for the sake of a couch to sleep on.

When Loki came back, Thor accepted the second bottle of beer, taking a sip distractedly.

"So what else did you want to know?" Loki asked.

Thor took a breath, thinking about those visits. Thinking about the punk concert, Loki's hands on his shoulders leading him through the crowd. His uncle leaning close to practically shout in his ear to be heard, and the vibrating energy that filled the air. The smell of leather and beer and sweat. The punks who grinned at him and gave him a thumbs-up, as if he'd scored some victory just being there. How it felt like a secret they shared, and the thought had filled him with pride.

"Why did you never have kids?" Thor blurted out before he could stop himself.

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Why do you ask?"

Thor gave a squirming shrug. "I mean... you were a lot of fun when I was younger. You're good with kids. Better than..."

“Better than Odin?” Loki laughed. “Oh, kiddo. Better for a few days, maybe, when I could take you to the zoo and spoil you rotten and then bring you home all hyped up on cotton candy and raving to your folks about how much fun Uncle Loki is. It drove them bonkers.” He paused, gazing into space as he contemplated. “Fun uncle, maybe, but I'd be a terrible parent.”

Thor thought about it, imagined how it would have been to have been raised by someone who at least _acted_ like they liked him, and a lump formed thick in his throat. “No you wouldn’t. I wish you'd been my dad,” he murmured.

* * *

The last time Loki visited, when Thor was 16, Thor had been surprised when his father let Loki stay.

After what felt like hours of Thor pretending to study while Loki took up space across from him at the kitchen table, his parents had finally gotten home, and Thor had expected that that would be the end of it.

Except Odin narrowed his eye at the sight and asked to speak to Loki in the other room, and after an hour they had emerged.

There hadn’t been any shouting. Thor had been listening for it.

Instead Odin said that Loki could stay for a week. Because he was family. So Thor helped his mom with dinner and then they'd all eaten together, and the tension around the dinner table had been worse than ever before. And Thor had spent half the meal sneaking glances at his uncle, not sure why he kept looking.

Except... really, he did know.

From the time he'd learned that Loki was staying, there had been butterflies in Thor’s stomach. Dad had said that Loki wasn't to be trusted, that he was bad news, that he was what Thor should never want to be. But his uncle was just the same as he'd been when Thor was younger. Talking to him—or trying to, at least, despite Thor's sullen resistance—and smiling at him, and Thor couldn't help it.

He lay in bed that night aware in every inch of his body of Uncle Loki asleep on the couch downstairs, the proximity—walls and hallways and empty space between them, but still—as he bit his lip and touched himself under the blankets. Every inch of him sang with it. Furtive and forbidden, a trembling hidden in with all the aches.

He wasn't supposed to have a crush on his uncle. It didn't matter that Loki was adopted so they weren't related by blood. That didn’t make it any better at all. Loki was the relative Thor wasn't even supposed to like. The one Odin only tolerated every few years so he could say he'd tried, that he'd taken the high road. The one Grandpa Bor had written out of the will.

Thor jerked himself off quick and harsh as he lay there, angry and upset and confused. 

It was only a week, but it was one of the worst, longest weeks of Thor's life, because Loki was there when he got home from school, and he didn't seem put off when Thor snapped at him. He didn't get angry like Odin would have. He grinned and shrugged and put up his hands in apology and gave Thor his space, and it was maddening. Loki was there in the evenings, drinking a beer with Odin while they watched sports or news, making Thor feel young and left out, excluded, and childish for feeling that way. Loki was there in the mornings when Thor stumbled into the kitchen with bedhead and rumpled PJs, making Thor feel painfully self-conscious as he poured milk into his cereal, except it would be even weirder to suddenly start showering and dressing before he came downstairs. Loki was under the same roof at night as Thor lay in bed, not sure what he felt or what he wanted, only that everything was suddenly strange now that his uncle was there.

* * *

Thor still felt the same. And now he had been kicked out of his parents' house, and his uncle was the one who had taken him in, and here was Thor, tipsy on a beer and a half, upset and anxious and with the same butterflies in his stomach. Wanting Loki to like him. Wondering if maybe he really did.

Antsy and fidgeting, he rearranged himself on the couch, toeing his shoes off and folding his feet under himself, eyes flicking to Loki's face again and again.

Uncle Loki had been his first crush, even though he hadn't been aware of it when it started. And now Thor had already thrown his whole life away, so there was no reason for him not to take a chance.

Loki would probably be horrified. He'd probably kick Thor out onto the street, shove him out into the dark in an unfamiliar city in the middle of the night. He might even tell his parents, and then Thor would never be able to go home again.

But just then, Thor couldn't care.

Years’ worth of torments hidden in the darkest parts of his mind. Years’ worth of secret doubts and worries and longings.

And right now, what did he have left to lose?

Bold, determined, Thor leaned over and pressed his lips against his uncle's.

He felt the jolt that ran through Loki's body when he did it.

And Loki allowed the kiss for just a moment—mouth closed and eyes wide, a soft hum of surprise in his throat—before gently but firmly prying him away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki finds himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or, rather, between dealing out more rejection and doing things he definitely should not do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have thus far forgotten to thank Schaudwen for all the feedback and encouragement on this fic and also Thebookhunter for some long-ago but very helpful input on this chapter in particular! So this is me thanking them now. <3
> 
> And thank you, also, to everyone who's let me know that they're enjoying it so far!

The truth was that Loki had, for the most part, used his nephew, and he knew it.

On the few occasions when he'd had no choice but to go to his brother for help, befriending Thor had been a good way to infuriate Odin, and the kid had been by far the most pleasant company available to him during those visits. The only remaining family member who wanted him around. Maybe the only person on the planet who had ever looked up to him. Loki couldn't deny that it had been good for the ego. And he hadn't thought much about Thor beyond that, and that had been merely a matter of practicality.

He saw the kid so rarely, and there was no doubt in his mind that it wouldn't be long before Odin managed to convince his son that Uncle Loki was not to be trusted, not to be admired. Loki felt certain that on some visit he would find that Thor had been taught to loathe him, just like the rest of the family did, so he tried not to let himself get attached. He was expecting Thor to turn on him. And that was what he thought had happened, last time.

Loki had been amused at the sight of Thor's shoulders up around his ears as he pretended to do his homework, anything to avoid having to talk to his uncle. Loki had turned up all the gentle teasing he could muster in the attempt to make his grumpy little nephew crack, enjoying the overserious teenage scowls and the way Thor fled as soon as his parents got home, as if he'd actually been afraid to leave Loki unguarded in the house. It had been an amusing diversion, and he'd mostly forgotten it when the week was up.

But now... all of this was completely unexpected.

Having Thor turn up on his doorstep, shivering, eyes rimmed in red, the backpack slung over his shoulder and the lost look on his face telling Loki everything he needed to know in an instant.

Something in Loki's chest had clenched in painful recognition.

Having Thor slumped on his couch, tears running down his face no matter how hard he tried to be tough and stoic—it was hard to listen to him gasping out his story. Or at least hard for Loki to do it without wanting to go find his brother and break his nose.

_Oh, Odin, you've done a number on this one._

And then his sweet little nephew was sneaking glances at him and blushing, and Loki didn't need two guesses to figure out where this was going.

But when Thor kissed him, it still came as a shock.

Thor threw himself into the kiss like it was his only hope. His hand on Loki's neck and his knees scooting closer, the feel of his soft lips altogether too innocent, and it took Loki a few moments to even begin trying to pull away.

When he finally managed it, Thor was all wide, blinking blue eyes and tense shoulders, looking like he was afraid he was going to get hit.

"What was that about, kiddo? What are you after?" Loki asked, trying for curious rather than horrified.

Thor was breathing fast, looking more nervous by the moment.

"I like you," Thor said, voice catching.

"All right," Loki answered with a rueful twitch of the lips. "But you know your dad would kill both of us for what you just did. Much less whatever else you're thinking you want from me."

That, at least, made the fear in his eyes recede, replaced by anger.

"I don't care what Dad would do," Thor spat. "I don't care what Dad thinks."

Loki let out a soft laugh. "Of course you don’t."

"What do you mean?" Thor answered hotly.

“Nothing, nothing.” Loki shook his head, trying not to grin. He knew teenage rebellion well enough, so there was no point in saying more or trying to explain. 

And that knocked Thor’s defiance out from under him. 

For a few moments Loki could only watch Thor battle with himself, fists clenching at his sides while tears glistened in his eyes. While he turned his gaze up to the far corner of the room not to let them fall. While he took deep breath after deep breath, trying to control himself.

Loki knew how that felt.

Except that when it had been him, he'd dealt with it alone, so he hadn't cared if he cried. No one was there to see. And when it had been him, there had been no way back. It wasn’t a stupid mistake like this, something that would blow over in a week and have the boy back home again, safe and comfortable, bright future still laid out at his feet.

When it had been him, in fact, he had been nothing like Thor at all. Nothing like this spoiled, wounded, naive little boy. 

Gently, firmly, Loki put his fingers to Thor's jaw—the soft fuzz of a beard he was evidently trying to grow—and turned his face until Thor had to look at him, a few accidental tears skipping down his cheeks when he blinked.

"I'm not going to judge you, kiddo. And I'm definitely not going to tell Odin. But this isn't really what you want. Not with me. You're just confused."

Thor's cheeks reddened and he looked away, huffing out a breath, twisting away from Loki's hand.

Loki continued. "I know you're upset. I really do understand that, and I understand you wanting to get back at Odin for it. But you'll regret it tomorrow if you do anything like what you just tried."

Almost violently, Thor shook his head. "You _don't_ understand. This isn't about Dad."

And then Thor leaned in to kiss him again, determined, defiant.

"Please, Uncle."

Loki didn't let himself react this time; instead Thor's lips traveled across his face, his mouth, a soft plaintive pressure and quick hot breaths.

"Please, I've felt this way for a long time. I want you, and I'm old enough now..."

Loki’s heart raced and his stomach churned as Thor sucked on his neck and panted into his ear. 

How was he supposed to deal with this? What was he supposed to do? The kid would take it as rejection if Loki pushed him away, and surely he’d suffered enough of that already for one day. But that was the only possible option. Wasn’t it?

Even if Loki had wanted to give in to him. Which he didn’t. 

As kindly as he could, Loki took hold of Thor's arms and shoved him back again. "Thor, you just told me you would rather have me as your father. This isn't..."

"Yes," Thor blurted out. "Please, Uncle Loki. I want you to be my daddy."

Loki blinked in shock. Where had the kid come up with _that_?

While he was too stunned to think, Thor moved to scramble awkwardly into his lap, slim muscular thighs straddling Loki's, hands clutching nervously at Loki's shoulders as he shifted his weight.

"Please be my daddy."

It was a horrible, sinking feeling. His tough, beautiful little nephew looking at him with a fragile light in his eyes. 

Odin’s perfect son here before him, asking, _begging_ to be corrupted. 

And if Loki gave him what he was pleading for, he would also be taking his own vengeance, better than he could ever have dreamed. A retaliation the family would never know about and never recover from. 

The thought appalled him. 

But also… how strange it was to feel needed. Wanted. No one had ever really needed him before. Never in his life had anyone come to him except if he could do something for them, carry out some con or scheme. And no one had wanted him for much of anything at all in several years, since he’d got tired of that life and the emptiness of it, retreated instead into whatever he could manage of normal.

And now this. 

He couldn’t possibly say yes. He couldn’t possibly go along with what Thor was asking. But he also couldn’t imagine turning him away. It seemed any option he chose… Thor would end up hurt. 

But maybe there was a fine line between the two choices. And Loki was the master of fine lines.

So he took a steadying breath and wound his fingers into long blond hair—almost down to Thor's shoulders, how did the boy get away with that in Odin's household?—and wrapped his other arm around Thor's waist, tugging him closer. Kissed him back, thoroughly, with half a lifetime's more experience.

By the time Loki pulled back from the kiss, his hand still tangled in blond hair, Thor was panting, eyes dazed.

"All right, kiddo. Tell me what you need."

Thor blushed at that and didn't immediately answer, biting at his lip and looking away.

A question occurred to Loki. "Have you ever done anything like this before, Thor? Not with girls, I mean."

Thor shook his head, awkward.

Another question naturally followed. "Do your mom and dad know you like guys?"

"No!"

Loki gave him a sad smile. "Probably smart."

So what Loki had on his hands was his nineteen-year-old virgin nephew, fresh from being kicked out of the house by his overbearing father and now blushing at him between kisses.

It was obvious what Thor needed. And perhaps... perhaps that part of it was something Loki could give. Perhaps that was a line he could walk long enough, until all this passed like a storm.

Thor did deserve a better daddy, anyway.

"Your parents never had any idea," he murmured, looking Thor up and down. "They had no idea how lucky they were to have a good boy like you. And you are a good boy, Thor. A good, brave, beautiful boy. I've always thought so." 

Thor's lips parted at the words, taking a shuddering breath as he met Loki's eyes, his own full of disbelief and hope.

"I'm going to be better to you. All you have to do is show me what you want."

Let Thor feel like he was in control. Let Thor _be_ in control, for his sake, knowing that Loki would not let this go too far. Let Thor take the lead, and hope that he would not ask for too much.

He stroked his hands gently down Thor's sides while the kid stared back at him, trembling.

"Come on. Show me."

Thor barely needed the coaxing, throwing himself into kissing and touching, desperately, and, as he had said, Loki let him do as he wished. He let Thor's tongue explore his mouth and then mirrored its motions with his own, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss. Tentatively Thor's hands moved down from his shoulders to his chest, and Loki responded by sliding his own down the back of Thor's jeans to grab two handfuls of his ass, squeezing and kneading.

The touch made Thor gasp and squirm against him.

"You feel so good in my lap, little boy."

And just those few words of praise made Thor pant even more and kiss him yet more eagerly.

"So is this what you want, just this? Or do you want to get out of some of these clothes so I can take better care of you?"

Frantic, Thor nodded.

* * *

At his urging Thor scrambled up to his feet and peeled off his sweatshirt, revealing the tight tee beneath it. By the time he got to undoing the fly of his jeans, he'd slowed down. Making a little show of it—or trying to.

Thor tried to play it off like he was confident. Arrogant, even, turning a little so that Loki got a good view of his round, perfect ass under tight cotton when he bent to push his jeans down past his knees, then wriggling a bit as he kicked them away from his feet. He tried to make a little show of it, blue eyes aiming for sultry as he glanced at Loki over his shoulder before turning back to face him, wearing only the dark blue t-shirt and white underwear.

But he was far from skilled enough to keep Loki from seeing the truth. The thin veneer of arrogance over an ocean of insecurity and uncertainty. The way he almost faltered, worry coming into his eyes despite the boyish grin. And the relief when Loki breathed a few words of praise and beckoned him nearer.

"You're gorgeous, Thor," Loki said, meaning every word. "Come here and let me look at you."

Thor did, stepping nearer and letting Loki turn him, hands gliding over his skin, stroking and cupping and admiring. Fingers creeping up under the t-shirt, rucking it up to press a kiss just below his navel, glancing up to see Thor staring down at him wide-eyed.

"You're amazing," Loki murmured again, just to see how Thor drew a shaky breath and practically shivered at the words.

How had someone like Thor gotten so starved for approval? True, Loki had barely been in his life to know what things had been like, but from what he had seen, as worthwhile offspring go the kid should have been Odin's wild dream. And yet here Loki was, playing daddy, patting his thigh and getting a lapful of eager young nephew again in an instant, Thor's hands clinging to Loki's shoulders as he leaned close for more wet, heated kisses.

It was appalling, and it was glorious, Odin’s son turned to putty in Loki’s hands just at being told what a good boy he was. Loki could almost certainly have him right now if he wanted. 

Loki wasn’t going to. He was barely even thinking of it when Thor, breathing heavily, reached down to the hem of his own t-shirt and hastily tugged it off as well, tossing it aside, leaving himself in only his underwear.

There was no flattery at all in Loki's gasp of lust as he took in the sight of him.

Muscled limbs and torso softened with just the slightest hint of lingering baby fat. The pert little nipples just begging to be licked and teased. The healthy color of his pale gold skin, from his thighs to his shoulders, and the barest little sprinkling of body hair here and there.

Thor was the pinnacle of lush, healthy young masculinity that Loki had utterly failed to be at that age. Loki had been too skinny, too pale, ripped jeans and a mouth full of snide disrespect. Thor was… everything their family could have ever expected of him, aside from his one little mistake.

And here he was, fallen right into Loki’s lap like a present, pink mouth slightly open while Loki smiled at him and rubbed his thumbs against Thor's hipbones.

"Are we going to... are you going to fuck me, Daddy?" Thor asked, voice hesitant, as if unsure he was playing the game right. But there was a flush on his chest that said he wanted the answer to be "yes," and he squirmed in Loki's lap, undoubtedly feeling Loki's erection prodding him.

Loki savored the idea for a long moment. Imagined spilling Thor onto the couch, sucking his cock while working fingers inside him to open him up, then—as he sprawled in a post-orgasmic haze—sliding his cock inside and fucking him until the boy belonged to him, until he’d left his mark irrevocably. Taking him in every possible way. 

He absolutely fucking was not going to do that. 

That was far on the other side of the thin line Loki was walking. Fooling around with his brother's kid was one thing. Kissing and touching him and distracting him from his current misery. All things that would be easy to stop and put behind them whenever Thor came to his senses. 

But Thor didn’t need to know that. So Loki just grinned. "No, I don't think you're ready for anything like that just yet, little boy."

Thor's eyebrows drew in and his mouth twisted into a cute little pout of protest, and Loki couldn’t resist giving the curve of his behind a little slap. 

"Don't look like that. I know what you need, and you'll get it. But you can't just jump right in the deep end. You've got to trust me to take care of you."

"... okay."

Carefully, Loki slid his fingers along the elastic of the blue-striped waistband, eyes glued to Thor's face, fascinated by the way Thor's whole body jolted when his touch merely brushed along his lower abdomen, tight and trembling.

"Sensitive, huh, kiddo?"

Thor nodded, biting at his lip. "Should—should I take those off too?"

Loki could see the outline of Thor's erection—rock hard and twitching almost with each breath.

Loki shook his head, giving Thor a little smile. "No, just like this."

Wasn’t it, in a way, just as good to tease him? To have Odin’s perfect son begging for Loki’s cock, pleading for more?

And Loki pulled him back into a kiss, one arm reaching around to grab Thor's delectable ass and tug Thor's hips tight against him, urging him to squirm and rub however he liked.

Thor was a teenager, after all; a half-naked makeout on the couch would be enough to distract him from everything, surely, and then Loki would be able to say that nothing had really happened. All he would be doing was letting Thor do what he wanted. Loki just wouldn't be stopping him. That was all.

"There you go, yes, that's right. Such a good boy. Let me hear you," Loki murmured to him.

Surely this would be enough, wouldn’t it?

His nephew panting and squirming in his lap each time Loki murmured praise into his ear and ground his erection against Thor’s ass through three layers of fabric. Thor moaning desperately, and the feeling of precome seeping through Thor’s briefs and Loki’s shirt. 

When it changed, it happened between two breaths. Fast and sudden—Thor’s arms around his neck going tense, the sound spilling from his mouth turning into a sob as the rest of his body went still.

Loki barely held back his own sigh of relief. Exhaled the guilt that had been growing in his belly the whole time, along with the added guilt of feeling glad to have his nephew once again crying in his embrace instead of... what they had just been doing. 

But he put that thought aside and instead stroked Thor’s hair, calming. Put a comforting hand to his shoulder. "You okay, kiddo?"

Of course he wasn’t okay. Obviously. His bitten, trembling lip, his look of nervous shame, not quite meeting Loki’s gaze. 

Thor tried to argue. “I’m fine. We don’t need to stop. I told you I wanted this, and I _do_. I’m just…" He shook his head. "I don’t know.”

"Well, I _do_ know, and _I_ want to stop if you’re feeling like this. Here, come on."

Even then the kid was stubborn. But eventually he let Loki nudge him off onto the cushion beside him.

“You’ve had a hell of a day, and you’re tired. That’s all. You don’t need to feel bad about it. Things will look better in the morning. Did you bring pajamas, Thor?”

Thor frowned in thought, biting his lip. "Um. Not really. I didn't think of it."

"That's okay. I'm sure mine will fit you just fine. Bathroom's down the hall if you want to get cleaned up at all, and you can use the hamper for anything that needs washing."

It took only a minute of Loki digging around in his dresser drawer to find his softest, comfiest pair, and another moment to pass them in around the edge of the bathroom door.

And then a few minutes after that to change into PJs himself and grab a spare pillow and blankets from his closet and breathe a brief sigh of gratitude that his couch was good for sleeping, and… halfway through fussing around trying to make everything comfy, Loki realized he was enjoying all of this. _Not_ enjoying Thor’s unhappiness. But the rest of it. Just having him here. 

There was something satisfyingly transgressive about giving his nephew what he already should have had, what should have been the minimum that any family would provide. Taking the kid in when his parents had meant to teach him a lesson. Comforting and consoling him so he _wouldn’t_ learn it. 

Loki felt himself grinning as he finished arranging the pillows and blankets on the couch.

Right about then, Thor returned from the bathroom, pajamas on and face scrubbed but looking awkward, guilty. 

"I... I didn't even ask if I could stay with you,” Thor murmured.

Loki ruffled his hair as he passed by to slump down onto the cushions. "You didn't have to. The couch is yours, for as long as you need it."

But Thor did not make any move to lie down. He fidgeted and looked away and Loki stayed right where he was, waiting. 

"... I don't think I can sleep yet either," Thor said at last.

"Oh, so you want me to stay up with you, too?" Loki laughed. "Good thing it's not a work night or you'd be shit out of luck."

* * *

It took a little bit to figure out what Thor wanted. A little bit of Loki trying not to pull back in alarm when his nephew cuddled up against his side, almost piling on top of him, before Loki realized he just wanted to be touched, held. From there it took some shuffling and rearranging, but they managed to get themselves arrayed on the couch, lying down together with Thor in front and Loki spooned up behind him, blankets pulled up over them and the TV switched on, tuned to some old movie, volume low so that they could talk over it or listen as they chose.

Thor sighed back against him so easily, so readily.

It was comfortable. Sweet.

To have Thor curled up on his couch—shifting, sleepy, to be closer to his warmth—grateful to be taken in by his only kin who seemed to understand and care about him when he really needed them. This wounded boy in his arms—who had squirmed and whimpered at each tiny crumb of praise and affection Loki had given—against all reason come to him for succor. He ran a hand tenderly through Thor's hair, murmured soothingly to him.

It made Loki's heart do strange things in his chest, thinking thoughts he’d avoided for years. The impossibility of a happy childhood. The fantasy of loving parents. For years it had been only an ancient bitterness, a joke that slipped from his lips with a dry laugh.

Now it was an ache, a loss, an emptiness. 

* * *

"You probably don't remember it, the last time the whole family was together," Loki said as the night drew on.

Thor shook his head, twisting to look at him. "Was I really there?"

Loki laughed. "Yeah, you were. You were four, I think, and I was only a couple years older than you are now, and we were all at your grandpa Bor's house for the holidays. Of course it turned into a shouting match, because it always did, and I was at the end of my rope by then and I'd just about had enough of Dad's shit. So I started shouting back, really, the way I never would have dared to when I was younger. And I said I wasn't going to be there next year, or ever again, if that's the way they were going to treat me. And I was halfway to the front door, coat on and ready to go, when you started crying. I guess you'd only figured out what was going on just then, but you ran after me and latched onto my leg like a barnacle, tears on your little face, begging me to stay."

Thor swallowed, studying Loki's expression in the dim, flickering television light. "Did you... did you go anyway?"

"I did," Loki admitted. "But I felt bad about it. I wished I didn't have to, and I hoped for your sake that you'd grow up to be what they wanted so you would never have to go through anything like that. You were a good kid, and I wanted to be your uncle. I just couldn't stick around the family to do it. At least not very often."

Thor nodded, pensive, mouth curled in a frown. "I wish you could've."

At some point, maybe around 3 a.m., Loki extricated himself while Thor dozed, returning to tuck the blankets around him, then leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"Get some rest, Thor," Loki said.

Thor made a sleepy, childish noise and nodded before slipping into dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, and Thor is figuring things out. Or trying to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short chapter this time, but the next one will be longer! Hope you guys are still enjoying this thing! :D

Thor woke up the next morning, comfortable warmth layered over the off-balance feeling of sleeping in a strange place. Blinking at the dab of cold drool on the pillow beneath his cheek, aware of the sounds of muted clattering coming from the kitchen.

His mind was a fuzzy thing as he stretched and groaned, one hand sneaking up to rub the sleep dirt from his eyes as he yawned, tugging the blankets up over his shoulders. He didn't want to get up yet, so he lay there for a while, not thinking any more than he had to.

The soft noises from the kitchen continued, soon accompanied by a faint sizzling and the smell of bacon in the air, and that was harder to ignore.

The rumbling in his stomach reminded him he'd basically only eaten a candy bar the day before.

The peculiar awareness that Uncle Loki was cooking breakfast for them... Thor had friends who'd spent summers with their aunts and uncles growing up, adventures in which they were still with family, still loved and protected, but free from the strictures of their parents. He'd never had that; his parents would never have let him stay with Loki, and Mom's siblings were all much older and not much fun, and they lived overseas anyway. But this, now… it felt almost like he was making up for the lack.

After a few more yawns and stretches, he made himself get up and stumbled into the kitchen, where Loki was standing at the stove with a spatula in his hand, turning at the sound of footsteps.

"Hey," he said. "'Morning, sleepyhead."

Thor's stomach chose that moment to grumble again, quite audibly. He winced. "Um. Sorry. Didn't eat much yesterday."

"Well, can't have that," Loki answered, brows canted in exaggerated worry. "Bacon, eggs, and toast for the growing boy coming right up. There's coffee in the pot too if you want it, and OJ in the fridge."

Two minutes later, Loki set a plate in front of him while birds sang beyond the window, in harmony with the distant sound of trash trucks and car horns, and Thor readily dug in, not looking up again until there were only crumbs left. When he did, it was to the sight of Loki's tilted grin over his coffee mug.

"Um. Thanks for breakfast, Uncle Loki. It was good," he said, remembering his manners.

"Glad you liked it," Loki replied.

Hunger sated, Thor sat back and took everything in.

Loki, it seemed, had been up long enough to dress, black jeans and t-shirt with a green button-down over it, sleeves rolled up. Hair brushed back, soft and wavy, just a few strands of grey at the temples. The simple silver lip ring glinting as he chewed a bite of buttered, jam-spread toast.

Thor couldn't stop himself from remembering how those lips had felt against his last night, the same old fluttering starting up in his belly. Remembering the feeling of his uncle's arms around him, gaze fixed on his face making Thor feel self-conscious in the best possible way. Appraised and found worthy, the murmured words of approval creating a warm blur of heat inside him.

He was probably blushing now at the thought.

And in the bright light of morning the memory was also strange. Almost frightening. Half-formed fantasies when he was sixteen had not prepared him for it actually happening.

Thor felt horribly deviant, and guilty, and triumphant.

And also, Loki had been right—if his parents ever found out, Odin probably _would_ kill them both.

The thought of his parents set off other realizations, like how he had not told anyone where he was going, and how Mom was probably panicking by now. No one knew where he was. If they asked his friends, they'd get only blank looks, and then probably everyone would start freaking out.

The thought was like cold water.

Thor gnawed on his lip. "I should probably call home. Let Mom and Dad know where I am and that I'm okay," he said.

Uncle Loki's brow twisted for a brief instant. "Mm."

It didn't seem like rousing agreement. Thor shifted, uncertain. "You don't think I should."

"It's your choice, kiddo," Loki answered with a shrug. "But that's the thing: it's your choice, and you don't actually have to. You're an adult and they kicked you out, so you don't have to check in with them."

Thor squirmed in his seat. "But what if they decide to let me come home?"

Loki studied him. "They probably will, sooner or later. And when that happens you'll still have to choose whether you want to go back and patch things up with them. Family's important, but it's not the only thing. And while I don't doubt they think they have your best interests at heart, they're not the ones who get to decide what those are anymore. If I were in your shoes, I'd take some time to let tempers cool and figure out what I really wanted."

Thor stayed quiet, uncertain, eyes flicking across Loki's face.

"I just want you to know that you don't have to do what they expect of you," Loki added.

Thor thought about it, with the strange feeling of getting advice from the family outcast, the one he'd always been told was a bad seed, someone not to trust or believe.

Maybe Thor was just as bad as his uncle and they'd both deserved to be shunned—and it seemed more likely, after what they'd done. After he'd kissed his uncle and Loki had let him, encouraged him, kissed back. Maybe that was why he'd always liked Loki. Because something was wrong with them both in the same way.

Or maybe the rest of the family was wrong, and Loki was only the black sheep because he hadn't gone along with it.

Thor didn't know which was true.

"Okay," he said, a little shaky. Loki was at least right that he didn't have to figure everything out right now. Which was good, under the circumstances. 

"Good," Loki answered. "Now, what do you want to do today? Are you up for getting a little tour of the city?"

A rush of Thor's fondest memories of adventures with his uncle. There was no way he could refuse. "Sure," he said.

"Get dressed—warmly, can't have you catching cold," Loki said with a wry grin. "And then we'll go."

* * *

There was a lot of city to explore, and they did so under grey wintry skies.

It had been years, really, since Thor had spent any time there.

His (former) university was on the other side of the state, a college town in the middle of nowhere, rowdy on weekends and quiet over the sweltering, mosquito-buzzing summers. The roads between there and his home town were long, stretched out under hours of anxiety and hazy future and uncertain dreams.

The city, though, was a place from his childhood. Dad had driven them there on a few occasions, for plays or sports games, enduring the sea of jolting, cursing red that was the highways, the headache that was parking downtown. In those few memories, though, it towered, concrete soaring so high that even from his father's shoulders, neck craned back, Thor couldn't see the tops of them, the windows reflecting back at each other up into the sky.

With Uncle Loki's arm around him, guiding him along, Thor felt terribly sheltered. Last night Loki had called him brave, but he'd barely ever had a chance for bravery in his life. He'd hardly ever wanted for anything. He'd hardly ever had anything to fear.

And Loki was the opposite of him. Worldly and wild, the sleek leather jacket making him look even tougher than usual. Striding along like he'd seen everything the world could throw and none of it fazed him anymore.

They wandered all across the city that day like delinquents, hats and gloves on against the chill, cheeks healthy red. Loki led him through a maze of subways and elevated lines, rails clacking under them as Thor gazed out the green-tinted windows at the buildings and cars and people blurring past.

They ate lunch in a little Vietnamese restaurant, its entryway half hidden near the mouth of an alley, and slurped pho together while Loki told him stories, stories from his life, stories of the city. An inexplicable little anecdote about the time he saw a woman playing violin completely naked on the front steps of one of the museums in the middle of the night. Or grinning, voice low, as he told Thor about the time he accidentally got into a turf fight when a big-time drug dealer somehow thought Loki was competition. Times he’d nearly wound up in jail, or worse, and how he’d always gotten himself back out of trouble just by the skin of his teeth. Stories of places he'd lived over the years, things he’d done, people he'd known.

Thor listened in fascination, almost transfixed. A glimpse through a door into a completely different world.

And glad, also, that he could for the most part listen passively, that he didn’t have to do any more than that, because he wasn’t sure he could have. His brain was a jumble, doubts and worries blurred and melding like the rainbow gleam of oil on a wet pavement.

And after lunch, more wandering toward an urban park Loki wanted to show him, a little bit of open space alongside the river where it twisted through the city.

The place was mostly deserted on such a day, the trees bare and black against the sky, a crust of ice down at the river's edge where the water rushed chuckling along, the scattered benches whitened with frost, the bare, blanched grass crunching under their footsteps. It didn't matter; they moseyed to stay warm as the long, drab early twilight of winter came on, blue-grey and quiet.

"So, have you thought more about what you want to do now?" Uncle Loki asked, hands in his pockets, a few minutes after the last story had trailed into silence.

Thor heaved a sigh. "I don't know."

Loki only hummed in answer, leaving the space open for him to go on. But Thor struggled to find words, brow knitting with the effort.

It was strange to realize that he really _hadn't_ thought about what he wanted. Not just what he wanted to do now that his parents had kicked him out—more than that. All his life, he’d just been carried along by a current and he’d never even questioned it. 

"I always thought what I was supposed to do was the same thing as what I wanted," he said after a while. Then he frowned, tripping over his own thoughts. "Wait, I mean, that what I wanted was..."

"No, I get what you mean," Loki reassured him. "You wanted your folks to be proud of you."

Thor nodded, and his heart felt heavy in his chest. "But I fucked that up, didn't I."

Loki's arm tightened slightly around him.

"Now I don't know what I'm supposed to do. And I definitely don't know what I _want_ to do."

Loki hummed again and gazed out over the river. "It seems to me that you already know a lot about what you want. You knew you wanted to be the sort of person who helped someone in need, even when it cost him. You wanted to be the sort of person who took a chance and went into the city on his own rather than hang around his old neighborhood waiting for his parents to forgive him. You wanted to be the sort of person who asked someone he trusted for help rather than flounder on his own."

Thor could feel himself blushing, and he huffed out a breath of white. "That's... that was just... I didn't know what I was doing. That was just me being stupid and impulsive and _reckless_."

Beside him, Loki slowed almost to a halt. "For a second there you sounded just like Odin."

Thor swallowed heavily, in terrible recognition. He had. And that... that definitely wasn't what he wanted.

For the rest of their walk a pensive silence fell, and Thor was glad. He had a lot to think about, and it was nice to do it with the bleak beauty of winter spread out before their eyes and his uncle's arm around him, a little place of safety, a little bit of warmth in the cold.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki knows it's definitely time to break things off. He's definitely going to do so. Really soon. He's definitely not going to let it go any further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! Thank you to everyone still reading!

It wasn’t really that things looked different in the daylight. 

Loki had woken up that morning, stretched in bed in full awareness that his nephew was still sleeping out on his couch, in full recollection of what they’d done in the dim-lit living room the night before, but it hadn’t really hit him. He’d gotten up and brewed himself coffee and made the kid breakfast... 

Well, the truth was he had made himself coffee and sat there blinking awake and sipping it until the realization hit him that his meager morning habits—big mug of hot, bitter liquid caffeine downed fast while he shook off the residual sleepiness, then a quick shower and maybe some toast crammed into his face if he had time—meant he did not actually have proper breakfast food in the place. But there was the corner store just a couple minutes’ walk away, and it was easy enough to tiptoe past the sleeping teenager on the couch, jaunt out for some staples, hurry back, and get it all cooking before Thor could wake up. 

So between the rushing around and the series of distractions that followed, Loki hadn’t really had time to think about what had happened any further. It had all still seemed fine, like something he could manage, like one of the scams he used to run before working for a real paycheck (even a sporadic one) had started to seem, honestly, easier. 

It wasn’t until he’d spent a few hours with the kid sidling up against him as they traipsed along grimy sidewalks and under clattering rails, breathing in the cold, bitter air.

Thor had still been looking at him like that, starry-eyed, admiring, and staying close enough that Loki put his arm around him almost without thinking, and Thor had melted gratefully against him.

Only then had Loki really felt what sort of madness this was. It sat heavy and tense in his belly, and it grew heavier as the light started to fail, signaling time for them to head home.

What was Thor doing, coming to him for help, or more than that? What was Thor doing, thinking he _wanted_ Loki?

More importantly, what was Loki doing, letting him?

It wasn’t vengeance. That wouldn’t be what he would get if he let this continue. If anything, it was proving the family right about him. About exactly the sort of monster he was.

He shouldn’t be doing anything right now but being the adult and taking care of his nephew as best he could. He probably _should_ be calling his brother and his sister-in-law and telling them their son was safe. Loki couldn’t stand the thought of that… but at least he should be letting Thor know in no uncertain terms that nothing else could happen between them. He should be doing that, and distracting him from his ridiculous crush, and from his confusion and guilt over what had happened with his parents, and from… everything else that was wrong with the world, because Thor should not ever have to know it the way Loki did.

By the time he slid his key into the lock and swung his front door open for his young guest, the words Loki should have been saying felt like a physical weight at the back of his tongue.

When the door closed, Thor was right there, insinuating himself into Loki's embrace and kissing him eagerly.

Loki allowed it for only a moment before untangling himself and holding Thor off.

"Hey, hold on, kiddo," Loki said, trying for as casual as he could make it through the tension in his throat. "How about we make dinner first? I don't know about you, but I feel like lunch was ages ago."

Thor hesitated and then nodded, and soon Loki had looked through the contents of his fridge and pantry, pulled out a couple pots and pans, and put Thor to work to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied.

* * *

"Did Odin ever make goulash for you or did your mom do all the cooking?"

"Um," Thor answered, frowning. "I don't know. Mom mostly cooked."

"You'd probably remember it if he had, honestly. Don't ask me why, but it was one of your Grandma Bestla's specialties, and there was a while after I moved out when I tried to remake the few things I had fond memories of from when I was a kid. This one I think I got just about right. You want to try it?"

Thor agreed, and soon Loki set him to chopping peppers and onions while he braised the meat and started water boiling for the noodles and got everything else ready.

Goulash was good, because it gave Loki time to think. Time to watch, observing as if from outside himself as Thor glowed each time Loki told him he was doing a good job with the vegetables, or came over to give him a quick squeeze on the shoulder and instruct him on what to do next.

"Lots of paprika. Always more than that, however much you've already added," Loki told his nephew with a grin as he stirred the fragrant pan.

Even with their task, it was hard to keep Thor from trying to sneak kisses. And it was even harder to refuse him. A few kisses more or less wouldn't make any difference after last night, surely. But it did feel strange to let Thor's tongue slide against his while Loki tried to sort out what he would say. How he would let him down easy, if such a thing was possible.

_I'm sorry, kiddo. It's not anything you've done._

Thor's lips parted under his, softly.

_It's too risky. I don't want to hurt you._

Thor grew bolder, sucked Loki's lower lip into his mouth, teeth toying with the idea of biting. Loki answered with a nip of his own, and then followed by sliding his tongue past Thor's lips, until he could feel the hum of a moan running through the boy.

_It's not you; it's me. It's me being your uncle. It's me being bad enough to give in to you despite all that. I won't be good for you. That's why we can't._

Thor had his hands on Loki's shoulders, their hips pressing together, when the slightly more frantic sizzling from the pan gave Loki the excuse to break away with an apologetic noise.

It wasn't the right moment to say it. Loki had already decided to wait until after they'd finished cooking and sat down to eat.

But then it seemed a shame to ruin the meal, the plates of creamy stew and wide tender noodles—such perfect comfort food—in front of them, Thor tentatively tasting it and then wolfing it the way only a teenage boy can.

(And oh, what would Bestla have said about this, about the use Loki was putting her recipe to.)

So it wasn't until afterward that Loki worked himself up to it. Plates and utensils already rinsed off in the sink and pan soaking, the both of them retreating to the front room, to the sofa where Thor had slept.

And quite obviously, if Loki didn't say something soon, it would be too late.

"About last night," Loki began.

Nervousness swept across Thor's face, sudden pallor, his whole body drawing inward.

And the words Loki had carefully prepared, the explanation he had planned out to make this easier...

 _We can't_ was ready on Loki's tongue. But now _he_ couldn't.

"How are you feeling about it today?" he asked instead, and he reached across to take Thor's hand and hold it, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles, soothing. "We haven't really had a chance to talk about it. And I want to make sure you know you won't be disappointing me if last night was all you want to do. Really, we shouldn’t do anything else. I’m your uncle, kiddo. It’s not right."

Thor's hand squeezed back, but somehow Loki thought he felt it tremble. "No. I don't want to stop now," Thor said. "I love you."

Gods, Thor really was so young, wasn't he? Loki felt it more keenly than ever, hearing those words from Thor's lips and watching him fidget as he said it and feeling him struggle quietly, feeling him try to figure out how to make Loki not turn him away.

"And I love you, too, kiddo," Loki said.

Thor huffed a breath. "No, I mean I—"

"Yes, I know how you meant it," Loki grinned. "But we both know you shouldn't feel that way."

Thor looked stricken.

What had Loki meant to say, again? Loki had years of experience at weaseling out of bad situations, talking his way out of trouble. So why did he only seem to be getting himself in deeper with every moment here?

"Please, Uncle Loki," Thor pouted.

No, it wasn't even pouting. If it were, Loki would be able to resist it.

"Please what?"

"Please... I love you and I want you to show me everything. Like last night. Like today. You've done so many things, you know so much..."

It was impossible for Loki not to give a little shake of the head, dismissive. "Plenty of other people could show you all the same things I can. People who would be better for you. Fuck's sake, people who aren't your dad's brother."

"But it wouldn't be you."

Some thin thread inside Loki snapped. What was he really supposed to say against that? Clearly, Thor wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer.

So Loki sat back, straightening up, but kept his hold on Thor's hand and pulled him closer, guided him until they were looking each other in the eyes. 

"All right, Thor. I'll give you what you want. "

"Yeah?"

"I’ll be your daddy, just like you said,” Loki added. “And that means it’s my job to make the rules. You got it?”

And that meant… well, he wasn’t going to fuck the kid, that was for sure, even if he said he wanted it. Just string him along some more, until Thor got tired of it all and decided to go home, and then all this would just be a shameful memory for both of them to jerk off to later. 

But his sweet, naive little nephew only blushed and nodded, not realizing he’d just been conned. 

"And the first rule is that we're only going to do things that you want, and we're going to stop if anything doesn't feel right, so you have to tell me what you want and how you're feeling. You definitely have to tell me if there's anything you don't like, even if it seems weird."

Thor nodded again, his face still red.

"Promise me," Loki insisted.

"I promise, Uncle," Thor breathed.

"All right, then. What do you want to do tonight?"

When Thor floundered and gave no answer, Loki thought of one. Something comforting and oddly safe, with a little bit of distance and distraction and purpose built into it.

He stood up from the couch and tugged Thor along with him.

"Come on," he said. "It's time for a shower."

* * *

Anticipation bunched tight in Thor's belly as he watched his uncle undress, there in the little bathroom, over the rain-sound of the water.

He was feeling so many things, so many it was almost overwhelming. He was still shaken from the fight with his dad—it felt so much longer ago than just yesterday morning—and the rebellious anger that followed and the strange contemplative calm from their wanderings around the city today and the surge of ice-cold panic, so sure that Loki was about to reject him, maybe even try to send him home, and the grateful relief when he didn't...

All of it swirled in Thor's chest, becoming one big muddle.

He needed something else to focus on. And he had it, in the thick, warm steam that was beginning to fill up the room and the task of clumsily pulling off his own clothes while sneaking glances at Loki's bared skin.

The ordinariness of getting ready to bathe with him, so much less and more intimate than what they had done the night before.

The rattling of the orange shower curtain as Loki pulled it aside to let them both under the spray.

He knew he was staring, a little, as they both moved around to let each other get fully wet. But he couldn't help it. This was the first chance he'd really had to see his uncle's body, the body of a man in his prime, pale skin pinkening in the heat, wiry muscles that looked like he'd earned them without ever seeing the inside of a gym. The attractive smattering of dark hair on his chest and trailing down his belly to the darker, denser shadow, and the sight within it that drew Thor's eye beyond his own control.

"How long since you've had anyone wash your back?" Loki asked with a crooked grin, interrupting Thor's train of thought.

"Um. Probably not ever," Thor answered. "Not since I was little, at least."

"Well then." Loki had already grabbed a bottle from the caddie, and as Thor watched he squeezed some herbal-smelling gel out onto his hands. "You’ll like this, I bet."

Loki started by washing Thor's hair while he stood there with the warm water flowing down his back and spritzing over his front, fingers massaging against his scalp and rubbing at the spot behind his ears before guiding him under the spray and tilting his head back to rinse.

A dollop of suds rolled over Thor's brow, and he squeezed his eyes shut until the water washed it away. He opened his eyes again as Loki's hands swept a few strands of hair out of his face.

And then all the rest, after Loki had rubbed soap into the puff in his hands, worked it into a lather.

Loki's touch was sure and firm but also gentle. His hands guided Thor this way and that, turned him so Loki could, indeed, wash his back for him, the sudsy loofah tracing patterns between his shoulderblades and down his spine. Massaging at his neck and shoulders. Down his sides, his arms, nudging him to lift them so he could wash beneath.

Thor was fully aware of every touch. Every accidental brush of a wet thigh against his. Every careful motion of Loki's hands.

It was impossible to think of anything else except what was happening and what he was feeling in this very moment, and that was so much better. Especially because what he was feeling was _good_.

He wanted Loki to kiss him, but at the same time he didn't want to do anything to break this trance he was in. And he also liked the feeling of his uncle doing things to him, liked feeling that Loki wasn't just humoring him, that Loki wanted him, too. He didn't want to have to think or choose. He didn't want to worry that he was doing things wrong. Just for now. Just for a little while.

"Good?" Loki asked.

"Yeah."

Loki nodded in response, and Thor simply waited, breathing in the warm, wet air.

It was weird how long it had been since Thor had felt cared for. It was weird how much it affected him now, turning into a growing warmth inside him, making him realize how starved of it he had been. The sponge scrubbed all across his back, up and down the muscles on both sides and across the bunched tension above his shoulder blades, and he sighed into it. It returned to his front, across his pecs, down his belly, low enough to make him almost gasp... before sliding down the side of his hip to his legs instead.

"Here, hold onto my shoulder for balance and put your foot up here," Loki said, gesturing to the lip of the tub.

Thor obeyed, giving Loki an easier angle from which to scrub his feet and legs, first one, then the other. Washing his ankles and the tender, ticklish spot behind his knees and up to his inner thighs. Thor gazed down his own body at the sight of his uncle leaning over to lavish him that way... the warmth inside him heightened.

And then Loki was patting his knee and straightening, coming to stand chest to chest with him. Kissing him briefly on the lips before pulling back again.

"Do you want me to do the rest too, little boy?"

 _The rest._ Thor almost shivered, feeling his own erection bob in the air, the erection that his uncle had studiously avoided up till this point. And the slight nudge he felt at his hip that was surely Loki's own.

"Yes, please," Thor breathed.

Thor could feel the slickness of the soap when Loki's hand touched him, first smoothing all along his length, down to the base and rubbing lather into the tightly curled hair, cupping his balls to gently soap them as well, then moving up again, shifting his foreskin and rubbing at the more sensitive skin beneath. Cleaning him thoroughly, as if that were all he was doing, not stroking him with such an expert touch that Thor had to take hold of Loki's shoulder again just to keep himself steady.

"Here?" Loki asked, voice husky in the steamy air.

Thor could barely answer. His "uh-huh" was just a moan.

Then Loki moved a little toward his side and Thor felt a tentative touch on the curve of his butt, slippery fingers delving into the crack.

"And here ?"

Thor could only nod, swallowing thickly.

Fingers rubbing lather around his inner cheeks, along his taint, and finally circling his hole while he bit his lip. Rubbing against the rim, just barely prodding inside.

No one had ever touched Thor there. He himself had barely tried it. And now he couldn't help but arch back into the sensation.

"That's a good boy," Loki said. "Gotta get you nice and clean all over."

Thor had begun to pant and squirm and was nearly ready to beg for something more when Loki pulled away.

"All right. I think you're adequately washed. Rinse off and I'll be out right behind you. Towels are on the heater."

Thor did as he was told.

* * *

When Loki emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, Thor was wrapped in a thick, comfy towel, already mostly dry. His erection had partly subsided but his anticipation had not, and he turned at the sound of the bathroom door.

Loki was toweling off inky hair. "Come on into my room," he said "It's warmer. And there's the bed."

It was warmer, but moreover, Thor had never been in Loki's room before, and he looked around himself with curiosity. It looked nothing like his parents' bedroom. It was clean and tidy, but there the similarities ended. On the walls there were more photography prints, artistic black-and-white views of architecture, shadowy forests, people, and the window was covered with a heavy blackout curtain, the mark of an erratic sleeping schedule. And there was little else in the room but a dresser and a big bed. Bedsheets of black satin, the coverlet of dark green folded carefully down. On the nightstand there was a small glass ashtray, clean and empty except for a little sticky brown roach perched on one corner.

Loki lay his own towel aside, folding it over the back of a chair, and now—still completely naked—he came over to his nephew and guided him to the bed and stood there beside it with Thor in a loose embrace. Nuzzled him briefly.

"You remember the rules, right, kiddo?"

Thor nodded.

"Tell me how you're feeling. Tell me what you want to do."

"I've liked everything we've done so far. I really liked showering with you," Thor said. "Especially when you... I mean, the part at the end."

Loki took this in with a contemplative sound. "So is that what you want more of?"

Thor was tempted to say yes, but there was something else he wanted more. Something that was harder to name, harder to explain. The part he had really liked was feeling protected, cared for, guided. Feeling that he could leave everything up to Loki and it would all be okay.

"Or do you just want to lie down and see where it goes?"

At that, Thor eagerly nodded.

* * *

They started out with kissing, Thor on his back in the middle of Loki's bed and Loki leaned up on an elbow above him.

Thor already loved his kisses. Loki kissed coaxingly—it wasn't demanding, wasn't forceful, but Thor still found himself happily doing whatever Loki seemed to suggest. Opening up and letting Loki's tongue plunder his mouth. And when Thor got up the courage to copy the action, Loki softened his lips and let him. Loki's kisses praised him. Loki's kisses went on and on until Thor's body was warm and buzzing all over, brimming with need. And even longer, while Loki's hand teased up and down Thor's front, rubbing his shoulders, his belly. While fingers played with Thor's nipples until he whimpered into the kiss. Only then did Loki pull back, detouring to kiss the tip of his nose with a chuckle.

"Oh, what am I going to do with you, Thor." His hand was still caressing Thor's chest, sometimes running down his flank.

And what Thor wanted was... "Whatever you want to do with me."

"You shouldn’t offer me that. You’ll get yourself in trouble that way, and you won’t get what you really want. There is such a thing as being _too_ good, kiddo.”

Thor must have made some tiny sound, given some subtle sign, then, because Loki's eyes darkened.

"Oh, yes, I've been neglecting that, haven’t I? That's what you like. Being told what a good boy you are..."

* * *

His uncle began kissing and touching him all over then while whispering praises against his skin, and Thor was quickly squirming with the sensation of it.

Smooth satin under his back, and soft lips covering every inch of him in little nips and kisses, and Thor had never experienced anything like it.

It was nothing like the rushed, furtive makeouts with his high school girlfriend or the guiltier, more perilous experiment or two with other guys.

He had never spread his limbs out on a bed in a warm, comfortably dim-lit room, completely naked with someone else and feeling completely safe, like nothing in the world could harm him here. Feeling completely loved, like he didn't have to hide anything, didn't have to fear.

And the words, each one of them soothed something inside him.

"... and you're so fucking beautiful. So perfect. I don't know how anyone wouldn't see that.”

The words ran down his spine in little shivers. But the sights… those coiled up inside him. The sight of his uncle’s lean, strong naked body moving over his while he touched him. Thor caught glimpses of his erection, thick and hard and flushed a deep red, and it was almost impossible to keep from squirming. 

“Tell me what you want to do, kiddo. We’re only gonna do what you want, but you’ve gotta ask for it.”

The first thought in his mind was his uncle’s cock inside him. He imagined the feel of it. Even just a fingertip pressed against him in the shower had been… Thor’s breath caught as he met his uncle’s eyes. 

Loki gazed back at him, one hand stroking along his belly. “What would you like most?”

But maybe his uncle was right; maybe he really wasn’t ready. Thor wasn’t used to figuring out what he really wanted. He definitely wasn’t used to asking for it. 

His throat felt thick, and it was hard to get the words out. “Would you touch me?”

“Touch you how?” Loki asked, his fingers still trailing along Thor’s skin.

“Um,” he panted. “Jerk me off while you… while you kiss me?”

Loki gave him a knife-sharp grin and slid close beside him while his hand crept confidently down to Thor’s cock, starting below, massaging the soft skin of his balls, then upward, fingertips dancing along the shaft, thumb against the head before he took a grip and began to stroke him, somehow knowing exactly what would make Thor gasp and tremble.

“Good boy,” Loki said.

And oh, it was so good, the deep kisses and the expert hand on his cock and the intimacy of it all, it should have been enough. It should have. Except when he started to get close, Thor almost could have cried because he didn’t want it to be over yet, and before he knew what he was doing he was reaching down and grabbing hold of his uncle’s hand, murmuring for him to stop.

Loki halted at once, pulled back, eyes wide in the dim room. 

Loki had told him to ask for what he wanted. 

“Please, uncle. I want more.”

Thor was still nervous about it, but he was too horny to care. His uncle loved him; it would be good. 

“I want you inside me.”

Thor watched as his uncle blinked in surprise and, somehow, actually flushed red before glancing away and getting a hold of himself. 

“Have you ever had anything inside you, little boy?” Loki asked, an amused murmur.

Thor had. But he’d tried not to think about it much.

"Yes," he finally whispered. "My own fingers. Once."

It had been a couple years before, and he always told himself he'd stopped because it just felt weird, not good, not like he'd hoped it would feel. But really, he knew, he'd just been afraid. And he knew it wouldn’t be like that now.

Thor felt like he was going to tremble to pieces as he waited for Loki to answer, but all he did was gaze back at Thor, unreadable, and reach over to the nightstand. 

Thor watched as his uncle squeezed a dollop of lube out into his palm, smeared it onto his fingers. Nudged Thor’s thighs apart and knelt between them. 

With his other, dry hand, he rubbed gently at Thor’s belly. 

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I’m not going to fuck you. I know you’re not ready for that. But I’m going to give you what you asked for. Unless you tell me to stop. Do you still want it?”

Panting, desperate, Thor nodded. 

Loki’s hand pressed into his belly while a slick, lubed finger pressed between his cheeks, seeking out his hole. 

Smearing the lube around it, rubbing slowly, slowly.

Thor made an undignified sound and spread his thighs wider.

It did still feel strange, a little, when it slid inside him, but it was more good than anything. Sliding gently back and forth, curling and rubbing inside him.

It also felt strange to have Loki kneeling between his sprawled legs, doing such an intimate thing to him, while Thor simply relaxed and let it happen.

But the warm glow in his chest was just like years ago, when he was a kid and Loki was the most exciting person he knew, and just having Loki looking at him and ruffling his hair made him feel special.

And the trembling lower in his belly was from how Thor felt open and vulnerable and exposed, all of Loki's attention focused on him, watching how he responded and making the next motion even better, until Thor was squirming and rocking his hips, fire spreading through him.

"Yes, good boy," Loki murmured, the hand that wasn’t rubbing against unimagined nerves inside him moving to stroke his cock again—Thor suddenly became aware of the trail of copious precome from his dick—and when Loki stroked him inside and outside at the same time, Thor’s whimpers became uncontrollable. “Look how good you are, how sensitive you are, fuck, you are so fucking good. So fucking hot.”

"Uncle..."

Loki made an affirmative sound, but it was muffled because he had turned his face to nuzzle at Thor’s knee, kissing it while he worked him over, and that was what pushed Thor over the edge.

When his orgasm seized him, it was like nothing else he'd ever felt, his whole body caught up in trembling while helpless moans poured from his throat.

Afterward, his legs sprawled out boneless to the sides.

"Mmph," he just about managed to say, and he reached out shaky arms.

Willingly Loki crawled up to cuddle and kiss him, and for a little while, Thor was happier than he could remember being.

Thor was in a half-haze of dozing when Loki slipped away and soon returned with a damp washcloth in hand and ran it over Thor's belly and between his legs until the slick mess was gone.

He was just able to lift his hips again for Loki to slide his pajama bottoms on, and to turn on his side when Loki climbed into bed and tugged the blankets up over them.

He was barely aware of his uncle curling up around him, or how he moved to press his behind against his uncle's crotch, trying to get Loki to spoon tighter around him.

He wasn't at all aware of Loki's groan, or the hint of amusement in it. By then Thor was deep in dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's best intentions went awry. So what's the next tactic available? Distraction!

Loki woke up at what was, for him, an early hour, his eyes flashing open at a subtle sound.

His phone, vibrating on the nightstand, letting him know that he actually had a job scheduled for this morning.

No—letting him know that he was supposed to be out the door in 15 minutes if he was going to make it there.

"Fuck."

It was altogether too strange, disentangling himself from his nephew still slumbering peacefully in his bed. Rushing around in the shadows of his own room, grabbing clothes and socks, trying to be quiet.

Briefly, Thor stirred, rolling over and poking his head out from under the nest of blankets with a sleepy noise, eyes barely opening. "Hm?"

"It's okay, kiddo. Go ahead and sleep some more," Loki told him. "I have to go to work. Make yourself at home whenever you wake up, and I'll be back in a few hours."

"Mm, okay. See you soon," Thor murmured around a yawn.

Loki closed the door as softly as he could when he left. 

* * *

Loki worked mindlessly.

He adjusted exposures, fidgeted, tweaked the focus on the cute young couple paying him to capture their precious moments, and he was glad he had done it a thousand times so that he barely had to think about any of it. It wasn't art, not little bread-and-butter jobs like this, but he wouldn't have cared right now if it had been.

Right now his mind was tangled up in the bedsheets where his nephew lay. Right now his mind was roiling with the fact that he could still feel the sweetness of his little nephew coming undone under his hands. He could still practically taste Thor's skin and feel his own heart thumping with the desire to give him everything.

Last night had been a mistake.

Last night had been a terrible, horrendous mistake, and the wrongness was heavy in the pit of his stomach.

He had started the evening meaning to tell Thor they had to stop. And then he had done just the opposite.

What was he doing.

Aside from very nearly fucking his brother's nineteen-year-old son. A boy half his own age, who for some unknown reason looked up to him and loved him and trusted him. Whatever fine line he had imagined he would draw, whatever con he had thought he could play on the kid to make him think he was getting what he wanted—in the cold light of day, there was nothing there at all. Nothing but his own selfishness. Every terrible thing he had ever been told he was.

And Loki could still practically taste the kid. Could still feel how good it had felt to make him wriggle and moan.

Loki hid behind his camera as he worked, with the feeling like it must show on his face, like it must be written on his skin, in lines of burning shame and disgust with himself.

Thor was an adult, yes. He could make his own choices. Loki wasn't forcing him.

But what had  _ he _ been like at nineteen? Had he known what he wanted?

He had definitely been so much angrier than Thor. So much harder, in ways that he didn't like to think of now because of the bile that rose in the back of his throat, sour and hot. There was no comparison. Thor was a good kid. Loki had been… anything but. 

And the chasm between that time and now seemed vast.

Since then he'd spent years trying to prove his family wrong and trying to avoid finding out for certain that they were right.

He'd spent years never really getting close to anyone, so that he could never be a burden. And so that he would never be so vulnerable again. He'd had friends, sure. People he'd hung around with. People he'd gotten drunk or high with but wouldn't have left alone in his apartment. People he'd slept with but wouldn't have called at 3 a.m. if he'd needed to hear another human voice.

He'd spent years doing things he shouldn't have done so that no one could look at him the way his mother once had. So no one could say the things about him that his father had said. The most help he ever asked for was a few nights on his brother's couch when he was between gigs, and even that... it was always half a ploy, half an excuse, because part of him always just had to go back, just to see. To make sure his memory wasn't fooling him and things really  _ had _ been that bad. To scratch the itch until it bled.

Above all, he'd spent years relying on himself alone, and making sure no one ever relied on him, because it was easier and safer that way. Because that way he could never let anyone else down.

And now here was Thor, reminding Loki painfully of himself, cast out and alone, but so much better.

And, worst of all, needing him.

What Loki really ought to do was tell him to go home before Loki could mess him up worse. He should have been urging the kid to go back to their family's resources and influence.

_ Take it from me, kid. You don't want to end up like me. I thought I could get out. I thought I was better than the rest of them. And here I am, twenty years later, with nothing and no one. With an empty life lived day to day and a series of shitty jobs and staring at the ceiling at night wondering if this is all there is and all there will ever be. _

_ Don't let me take you down with me. _

If Thor had any sense, he would go home and put up with whatever the family did to him, just to avoid the path Loki had taken.

That's what Loki ought to be telling him, rather than urging him to think it through.

At the same time, Loki couldn't stand the thought, fury rising in him all over again at how wounded the boy had been when he showed up on his doorstep. How wounded he still was. Odin and the rest of them did not deserve to have Thor if that was how they were going to treat him.

Loki wanted to protect him, and he thought of suggesting to Thor that he simply stay. Loki had plenty of space for him, and the only expense would be a bigger grocery bill, to feed a nineteen-year-old boy. Loki could certainly help him find some sort of work in the area, and then... then Loki could truly take care of him. Shower him with all the love and affection he'd been missing, and he could fall asleep with his nephew in his arms every night.

The thought was so selfish that Loki was appalled at his brain for thinking it.

No. He definitely could  _ not _ do that. Even if no one ever found out about them, it would be a cruel trick to play, luring Thor into just the sort of lowly life that was everything he did not deserve. He would be  _ using _ his nephew, and not just by befriending him for a few days to annoy Odin while Loki slept on their couch. He would be using Thor in a way far worse than that.

He snapped more and more shots, jaw set, barely seeing what was in front of his eyes.

* * *

Four dismal, dragging hours later, Loki was on his own front step, turning the key in the lock. And then inside, setting down his bag of equipment and hanging up his coat and hat and peering around himself curiously.

It was a strange feeling, after all this time, to have someone staying with him, the place warm and lit and humming with life instead of waiting dark and empty for his return.

"Thor?" he called.

"Uncle Loki?"

The reply came from the kitchen, and Loki wandered over to find Thor sitting at the kitchen table, slices of pizza in front of him.

"It was in your freezer. I hope it's okay that I made it."

Loki nodded with a laugh. How very college student. "As long as you saved some for me."

So after a few more minutes of Loki settling in, they were sitting there eating pizza together, Thor asking about his day at work and seeming so happy to talk to him that Loki was reminded of a puppy.

At first Thor looked sheepish, admitting he hadn't even known what Loki did for a living, and Loki had to shrug, saying it was hardly Thor's fault, given the number of jobs he'd had over the years. At that, though, Thor perked up and wanted to hear about all of them, and he listened with fascination over the dwindling pizza until they were down to a few bits of crust.

It was comfortable. It was wonderful. And it left Loki feeling like a fraud, someone nowhere near as amazing as Thor seemed to believe, especially when Thor joined him at the sink for the brief washing up, grinning and practically preening when Loki thanked him and looking hopeful, expectant—

It would be far, far too easy to give in to that selfish impulse. To pull his nephew close, praise him until he glowed with it, and end up in bed with him again, and probably tonight Loki would find it impossible to hold off when Thor asked.

"How about we go out for a bit?" Loki said suddenly.

"Okay," Thor said, uncertain for only a moment but seeming to trust Loki's smile.

* * *

The place Loki chose was a bar two neighborhoods over, a place a little rough around the edges but with oddly good live music sometimes, and at least cheap drinks when not.

He wasn't sure what part of that made him think of it, though it did help that he knew most of the bouncers and could slip them a twenty to let Thor in as his guest.

Thor's eyes shone as they waded into the crowd after grabbing drinks at the bar.

"So you really haven't been to many bars, have you?" Loki asked, leaning close.

Thor shook his head, still gazing around with curiosity.

And this was better. This was something he  _ could  _ do for his nephew.

Loki could show him what was out there in the world, the things his parents would never have thought to teach him, the things they wouldn't have allowed him to learn. This was not that far different from taking him to a punk rock show when he was 13, leading him around and getting to share the thrill of the new experience, and getting to feel like he was passing on some part of himself, teaching the kid what he knew.

The only thing that really made it different was that this time, when he wrapped his arm around Thor, it was not entirely innocent. It was a little bit playful, a little bit risky. No one here would ever know how they were related, and he wouldn't do anything incriminating in any case. But he could have a little bit of fun with it.

He spent an hour or so sitting intimately close to Thor and pointing out little things here and there about bar culture, tilting his head with a hint of a grin, meaningfully, when there was an interesting conversation occurring in their vicinity.

"If you go to the men's room, don't be surprised if the stalls are, well, occupied," he said at one point after watching one patron follow another surreptitiously toward the grungy door at the back.

Thor's eyebrows raised. "Do people really do that?"

Loki found himself laughing as he nodded. "Yeah, they do, no matter what the floors are like."

A pause. "Have you ever?"

There seemed no point in denying it. "Yes. Though not in a long time, and it's not really something I'd care to repeat."

It was strange when Thor's reaction was to look at him as if this revelation made him even more fascinating.

"How many people have you been with?" Thor asked, voice quiet but enthralled.

"In bar bathrooms or in general?" Loki answered with a hint of a laugh.

Thor was not deterred. "In general."

Loki shrugged. "Not that many, really. I guess it was an impressive number when I was in my twenties but by now it's probably pretty normal. I haven't been with anyone in a few years," he added when Thor looked like he was trying to puzzle that one out. "Anyone else who isn't shacked up has doubtless caught up with me." 

Then Thor was frowning. "But... why?"

Loki shrugged again, and he took a swig of his beer. He couldn't make himself tell his nephew that he was far less a prize than Thor seemed to believe. Nor could he explain that it had all started to seem boring, a series of people who had barely cared about him, and who he had barely cared about in return. It had started to seem pointless and empty—and that was just the sort of dreary truth that he never wanted to teach his hopeful, wide-eyed, wonderful nephew.

"Just didn't really have time for it, I guess."

Thor's thoughtful frown remained for a few minutes, until Loki managed to distract him, calling his attention to the other source of entertainment in the place: the pool table.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble's around the corner. With a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for Pool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess we're officially past halfway through this fic! Thank you to everyone reading who's taken the time to let me know you're enjoying! :D

In fact there were two tables, one currently occupied by a couple guys with worn jeans and rolled-up sleeves and a smell like an old ashtray, the other empty.

"Have you ever played, Thor?" Loki asked as he led him to the empty one and picked out a pair of sticks from the wall, chalking the tip of his own and handing the other to Thor.

Thor watched him. "A few times. I'm not very good, though."

"That's all right. We'll just play for fun," Loki said.

And it was fun. They played straight pool for their first game, taking any shots they liked, and when Thor seemed up for a second, Loki let himself start to give him some pointers, setting up a few easier shots for him and then helping him make them.

By the middle of it he was correcting Thor's form, a touch here and there to guide him or reposition him, and getting Thor grinning back at him when he made what was actually a somewhat difficult bank shot.

"Very well done, Thor," he said, praising him each time, liking the way it made Thor preen. "You're a natural at this."

And then when it was his own turn to shoot, he found himself showing off, enjoying the way Thor's eyes followed him, awestruck.

It had been some time since he'd played often enough to really keep up his skills, but he was certainly still good enough to do a few flashy trick shots.

"I used to do this for money," he admitted when Thor asked how he'd gotten that good. "Never made a living off it, but it was plenty to put some extra change in my pocket, just for what I would probably have been doing anyway in the evenings."

That was where he made his mistake, because he'd been too cocky just a little too loudly, and it was a few minutes later—halfway through his next beer—when the guys at the other table asked if he thought he was still that good.

It was his own fault for agreeing.

It was definitely his own fault for continuing after he'd recognized the con, and even playing into it, holding back when he played against the first guy, letting them talk him into another game, for real money this time.

And without question it was his own fault for wanting to impress his nephew. For turning and giving Thor a little wink before he wiped the floor with the second guy, sinking ball after ball without stopping until the game was over, then plucking up the folded bills from where they lay, giving the guys a cheeky grin.

"Thanks," he said, cheerful, as he stuck the green in his pocket, grabbed Thor by the arm, and headed back to the other side of the bar.

A little over an hour later, at closing time, Loki was no longer thinking about it at all—honestly, he was a bit beyond tipsy at that point as he led his nephew out into the chill of 1 a.m. in January, the air nipping sharply at their faces, but at least they only had to get themselves to the el station a few blocks away, and Loki knew a handy shortcut to get there. A shortcut through the alleyway, past graffiti-scrawled brick and rusted old dumpsters and pavement shiny with ice and oil.

And they were halfway down it, penned in and out of sight, when Loki heard the echoing footsteps behind them. As he really probably should have anticipated.

He barely had to turn to know who it was going to be, and a quick glance confirmed his suspicions. A pair of guys in ratty jeans, though the rolled-up sleeves were now hidden under their coats.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, slowing but giving no other sign, no obvious show of fear. "Kiddo, things are about to get interesting."

Thor made a sound of slightly disoriented distress. "Uncle?"

"Those guys from the bar; I don't think they're happy about losing their money. Just let me deal with them, and stay behind me. And if things start to go south, run."

But then the pair were right behind them, and there was no more time to think.

* * *

"Hey, asshole!"

Only then did Loki halt and turn, slowly, calmly. But Thor's heart was in his throat as he did as he'd been told, staying just behind his uncle as he faced them.

Thor's heart was so loud in his ears that he could barely make out the conversation, following it as if he were underwater, the tension in the air more palpable than the cold.

From what he could gather, they were angry that Loki had stopped playing without giving them a chance to win their money back. They were accusing him of cheating—somehow—and demanding that Loki return the wad of bills, along with whatever other money he had, for them to forget the insult.

Loki listened, head cocked, while the first guy said his piece.

"Alright, fellas," Loki answered, voice even, steady. "You know what? You have a point. Next time I see you, we'll have another go at it. Fair's fair."

The first guy—the smaller one, with a deep scar through the stubble on his chin that Thor couldn't stop looking at once he noticed it—didn't seem to like that answer, puffing up his chest and taking another step toward them.

"Yeah, but that don't do nothin' for me tonight. I'll probably never see your skinny ass again."

Loki didn't move, but his eyes narrowed. "And what makes that my problem? Nobody wins every game. If you couldn't handle that, you shouldn't have made a bet. Unless you were trying to hustle me. Is that what's going on here?"

Every sense Thor had was screaming. Not that he was afraid of a fight—but by the looks of the second guy, currently pacing just a little bit to one side with a hand jammed in the bulging pocket of his coat, this wasn't going to be a fair one.

And still Loki did not flinch, did not back down, as chin-scar started to fume and spit.

"What the fuck are you tryin' to say?"

Loki gave him a humorless grin. "Nothing. I'm just asking if you were trying to hustle me. Because if you were, then, you know, fine, I'll give you the money. If you're that hard up for cash, you can have it. But you're gonna have to say so."

Thor steeled himself, waiting for the explosion, knowing he wouldn't be able to make himself run like Loki had told him, couldn't leave his uncle there in a fistfight in a filthy alley in the middle of the night, but his mind was already reeling, running through every terrible possible outcome.

But the explosion, when it came, was not what he expected.

"Fuck you!" chin-scar shouted, fists clenched and face twisted, but not attacking. Just glaring at them both, looking down his nose at them. "We ain't fuckin' cheats. Fuck you."

Loki shrugged. "Fine. Then we don't have a problem, do we?"

It was to Thor's amazement that chin-scar was then turning and striding away, fury rolling off his bunched-up shoulders like steam.

"Goddammit, Curtis," his buddy grumbled as he trotted off after him, while chin-scar threw a few more shouts of "fuck you" over his shoulder.

And then it was over, and Thor realized he was shaking, sweat on his skin going icy cold in the winter air.

Loki, next to him, was stone still, watching the pair go until they disappeared past the mouth of the alley.

"I'm sorry about that," he said when they were gone.

* * *

Thor's heart was still pounding as the rails clacked away under them, the train car swaying slightly, and he leaned against his uncle's shoulder as they rode.

"How did you know they'd back down?" he asked, his mind still going over and over the whole endless two-minute confrontation.

Loki made a soft noise in his chest. "It was a gamble. They didn't look like they really wanted to fight. They were just pissed off that I'd made them look like asses, and they thought we'd be easy pickings." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I should have seen that coming."

Thor said nothing. The rest of the el car was nearly empty, at least, just an old homeless guy asleep under a ratty yellow blanket at the far end. And Loki's warmth beside him was soothing.

"I shouldn't have taken their bet in the first place. I'm sorry for getting you tangled up in that mess. That definitely wasn't my plan," Loki added.

Thor shook his head. "It's okay, Uncle Loki."

He couldn't put it into words yet, but now that the adrenalin was seeping away, he was seeing different things in the argument.

Watching his uncle talk his way out of the situation, part of Thor had simply admired him. But more than that, there was the way Loki had insisted on putting himself between Thor and danger, and that made Thor's heart do strange things. He wasn't used to that. As a kid, he'd always been big. Not the one anyone thought needed to be protected. And his dad had always expected him to be able to defend himself.

On the rare occasions when Odin had stepped in for him—like making a thousand calls to keep him out of jail after a stupid mistake at university—he'd always made Thor feel like a nuisance for it. Like a failure. Like he shouldn't have ever needed anyone's help.

By contrast, the steel-hard sound of his uncle's voice telling him to not put himself at risk even if it went badly, insisting that he would protect him... a blush of warmth flowed through Thor at the memory.

Loki's hand squeezed at his knee, breaking through his reverie.

"Are you all right, kiddo?"

Thor nodded. What he really wanted was for Loki to kiss him then and there. He wanted to hold tight to Loki and feel truly safe, for the first time in far too long.

* * *

Nerves still jangling, Loki unlocked the door to his apartment and ushered his nephew inside ahead of him.

That should be the lesson to him, once and for all. He had no place trying to take care of anyone else, and if Thor stayed with him, it would surely only end in disaster. Loki was a magnet for everything bad. Loki had nothing positive to offer, nothing good. Just trouble and risk and misery.

He should tell the kid that Odin had been right in everything he said about him, every warning he ever gave to be wary of his uncle. He should tell Thor what kinds of shit his own past was full of, things Thor did not—should not—want to be anywhere close to.

This line of thinking was shattered as soon as the door closed behind them, as Thor nearly threw himself into Loki's arms, pressing himself against him, face buried in the curve of Loki's neck.

"Thor—?!" Loki began.

Then Thor was kissing him, or trying to, tilting his head and pressing a wet mouth against Loki's cheek. "Please, Uncle," he said.

"Huh? What—”

Thor kissed him a few more times, and Loki allowed it, wrapping his arms around his nephew's back and holding him close.

"Can we... um..."

A little frisson of panic rushed through Loki's veins. All the things he'd just been thinking of—how he should be warning Thor away from himself—were running up against the feeling of having Thor all eager in his arms. Real and warm and hopeful.

"Not... not tonight," Loki answered, with difficulty.

And why did Thor want to, after what had happened? Yet Thor made a disappointed sound and pouted.

"I'm beat, and I think we've both had more than enough excitement for one day," Loki added, trying to soften the blow.

Thor nodded at that. "Well, then can I sleep with you, at least? Just sleep, I mean."

Loki couldn't think of an excuse to say no, and he heard himself say "sure."

 _Just sleep_ , and yet it somehow still ended up with Thor cuddling up to him while Loki tried to close his eyes, until at last he acquiesced to spooning up behind his nephew just to get Thor to stop fidgeting.

"I like being here with you," Thor whispered in the dark.

Of course Thor had not really meant _just sleep._ Of course.

"Please, Loki," he whined.

Loki stayed still and silent, eyes closed, arms wrapped firmly around Thor's body.

Loki was not going to give in again. For both their sakes. 

The night stretched, soft and quiet, with the rustle of Thor's occasional fidgets and the feel of his sighs, his back moving against Loki's chest.

Loki had to refuse this time.

"Thor. Sleep."

"But..."

A kiss to the back of his neck, and goosebumps rising under Loki's lips. "Please, kiddo. Be my good boy. Just tonight."

Eventually, Thor did sleep, his breaths evening out, slowing down. His body softening in Loki's embrace.

It took Loki a lot longer, with the hollow feeling in his belly. Guilt and regret and the solid, sweet warmth of his nephew altogether too pleasant in his arms.

Thor deserved so much better than this. So much better than him, than what they had been doing, than anything Loki could offer him.

If Loki were any good at all, he'd be telling Thor to go home.

At last Loki buried his nose in Thor's hair and fell asleep as well.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki thinks about his past, and how different Thor is from what he once was like. Thor thinks about his present, and how different Loki is from what Thor once believed.

Loki had been in Thor’s shoes twenty years before, but everything had been different then. 

For instance, cell phones. It had been the nineties when he'd left home—the first time, by his own choice—so he'd had no cell phone. But nobody did, really; they’d still been rare and expensive and the size of bricks. So when he left, he had lacked that ready link to the rest of the world; when he ended up alone in unfamiliar places, he had truly been _alone_.

But that also made for one less lever that anyone could have tried to use to control him, one less chain to tether him. No phone for anyone to expect him to answer, to dread its silence or its ring.

He'd been flying into the unknown, driven by desperation. He’d had a full backpack and an empty wallet and a head full of determination, and he’d hitchhiked to get away, to someplace where things would be different.

That first time, he’d thought things really would be. He’d even had a destination, one he’d dug up through careful searches at the library in the months before, wheedling in the records department of the local hospital, with luck and stubbornness. He’d dug up a name. Laufey. A wedding announcement in a newspaper from a year after he was born, with a grainy photo alongside it on the microfiche. An out-of-date forwarding address in a tiny town on the other side of the state. 

He’d made it there. And he’d actually found them. By himself, he’d stood there in a worn grey hoodie and torn black jeans on their doorstep, the strap of his pack heavy on his shoulder and his heart racing with what could be. A light rain pattering around him, plinking on the oxidized tin of the rain gutters and tapping on the heads of the flowers drooping in their bed in an old tractor tire beside the walkway. For a moment, after he knocked, he’d thought things were actually going to be better. 

When the door opened, he’d explained who he was, his gaze flitting past the tired-looking woman’s shoulder to the three younger kids visible in the living room. Three little heads with dark hair like his own, owlish green eyes turning to peer at the visitor on their doorstep.

He hadn’t even finished before she was shaking her head. Telling him to go home.

Shutting the door in his face. 

The people he'd come from—wondered about and resented throughout his childhood, the ones he'd told himself stories about so many times—hadn't wanted him around either. Hadn’t wanted to know anything about him. Had only wanted him to leave.

In shock, he’d spent a few weeks wandering, just hitching rides or wearing down the soles of his sneakers, until finally, not knowing what else to do, he’d taken her advice.

Or at least he had tried.

He had gone back, swallowing his pride and making all the right repentant noises. 

And what he remembered most from that attempt was walking into the kitchen of the house he'd grown up in, seeing his mother there. Trying to talk to her, but she had looked at him with eyes made of ice, and she hadn't said a word in reply, not a single word. At last she’d just turned away and ignored him. He remembered sitting there at the table, hands trembling, shoving them between his knees to keep himself from falling apart.

The other thing he remembered was how _many_ words his father had for him. Bor had always made it clear exactly what he thought of Loki. That part was almost comfortingly familiar, and Loki gritted his teeth through it like he'd always done.

And then there had been Odin. His older brother who had recently married and now seemed to be full of authority, full of condescension, and Loki couldn't recognize him anymore.

Loki's return home hadn't lasted long, and when he finally left again, for good, the one thing he was sure about was how much he did not care what they thought of him.

The second time he left with a shrug, a sneer. That time they’d shoved him out and locked the door behind him. They would never accept him or care about him, so that made it oddly easy to walk away, head high. And they did not love him, so they could not possibly have hurt him.

But having his nephew in his space now made him remember things he hadn’t thought of in years.

When it was him, Loki had not been taken in by anyone. But he doubted he would have accepted the help if anyone had tried. He had been angry, bitter, vicious. He had fought anyone at the slightest provocation and disappeared afterward without a thought, slipping away into shadows and letting the miles trail away beneath him. Nothing had mattered to him. He’d finally understood that the only way to be safe—safe from anyone trying to control him or manipulate him or demean him—was to never give anyone the opportunity. 

Thor was so different. So different, it made Loki almost lightheaded to think about it.

Thor... was polite, cleaned up after himself, and helped out eagerly at the slightest suggestion, needing only the payment of a little bit of praise. He wasn’t difficult to live with, even for Loki, who had never much been in favor of roommates. The only things he did that were annoyingly teenaged... were things that Loki really could not blame him for.

Thor's youthful energy—the way he lit up, raring to go, when Loki staggered through the door in the evening feeling honestly a bit braindead after another day dealing with another crop of strangers.

"Ooh, kiddo," Loki groaned, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose to try to ward off the headache that had been creeping up on him all day. "You've gotta slow down. Take it easy on an old man."

What followed was Thor's laugh of disbelief and his momentary disappointment and then his easygoing acceptance of it when Loki suggested they go grab take-out and then sack out on the couch for a movie, especially when Loki would bribe him with kisses, with cuddles.

So Loki could not really complain about that.

Nor Thor’s occasional bouts of moodiness, moping around the place and answering any questions with a morose pessimism. His brief, rare bursts of irritability, followed by nervous, guilty apologies. 

Loki definitely couldn’t blame him. Not when he had been so much worse at that age. And Thor had just as much right to it as he'd had. Loki couldn't be upset at him for that at all.

So like that, with the two of them settling into a routine together, days passed.

* * *

Days passed, and for Thor, the fog started to lift.

It was weird how he hadn't noticed it while it was there. It was only looking back—the hazy blur that was his memory of the fight with his parents, the bus ride to the city, his first night on Loki's couch—that he realized just how much of a mess he had been.

And probably still was. But he was starting to feel a little steadier. At least sometimes.

Most days so far, Uncle Loki had left him alone in the apartment at some point when he went out on jobs, and Thor found himself lazing around the place, dozing on the couch and letting his mind wander. Or getting up, antsy, and poring through the bookshelves, pulling out whatever caught his eye. Loki had everything from art books full of strange, vivid images to puffy, well-thumbed pulp novels to rare-looking leather-bound volumes on subjects like political philosophy. The distraction was welcome, and Thor was sometimes still reading them, cross-legged and surrounded by a pile of the day's books, when his uncle returned.

Other times, he would sprawl out on his back in the middle of the floor, book open on his chest, feeling how strange this all was. Being here, in his uncle's apartment, white winter light pouring in through the windows, contrasting with the warmer yellow of the table lamp. Reading Loki's books, rubbing his sock feet on the carpet, feeling weirdly content.

Just a few years ago, he'd believed all the things his father said about Loki. He had agreed with Dad because he thought he should—and when he'd run here, part of him had done so because he still believed it, and he had _wanted_ bad. _Bad_ had felt right.

But now it was all different, and everything about Loki fascinated him.

He was so different from Thor's father. So different from the rest of the family. Thor could close his eyes and fantasize about twining his fingers in the soft hair at his temples, black streaked with the first few strands of grey. He could lie here and remember the feeling of sucking Loki's silver lip-ring into his mouth when they kissed, and his uncle chuckling at him when he did it.

Infatuation, maybe, was a good distraction too.

But it was more than infatuation. Thor was sure of that. It was bigger. It was in everything. It was feeling safe with him, it was wanting to know everything about his life, it was watching him one evening as he processed that day's photos, asking...

Loki shrugged. "It was just something I was good at, and wasn't going to get me killed or in prison someday. It's not glamorous. I'm not going to get rich like your folks this way, that's for sure. I'm lucky I'm getting by."

Thor watched, intent, as he adjusted a few more. "Yeah, but..."

He couldn't explain it, didn't know how to say it. It was something better than glamorous. Loki had made his own way. He'd gone off the path that was set for him, and he was still here. _Just getting by_ , maybe, but on his own terms.

Somewhere deep down, Thor hadn't known that was possible. He hadn’t known that was _allowed_. There had been the straight and narrow path, and beside it a sharp drop into darkness and despair, and no one had ever told him there was any other way.

* * *

And then there were the evenings, and Thor liked those even better. 

They hadn't done anything more since the night they'd showered together. Not really. They'd spent a couple evenings making out on the couch, and every time, Loki had started out looking at him with a sort of tender worry that made Thor want it even more. He wanted it with someone who cared so much about him, wanted it with someone who insisted he be sure it was what he really wanted.

Most of all, he wanted everything he could get while he had this chance. He wanted Loki to teach him. He felt like he was at a banquet, maybe for just a few moments before it would be gone again, and he wanted to taste everything while he could.

He had spent much of last night grinding in Loki's lap, trying to convince him.

"You haven’t even let me do anything for you, and I want to. Even if we can't... even if you won't fuck me. Something. Please?"

In the dim light of the room, it took Thor a moment to realize what he was seeing. To realize that his uncle's cheeks had flushed pink.

"You already do plenty for me, kiddo," Loki murmured. "I've enjoyed everything we've done. You don't have to worry about me."

"But I want to get you off, too. I mean, it's only fair, isn't it?"

Thor gazed back, trying to steady himself, while his uncle studied his face. "You're too goddamn good, you know that? Not everyone would even care whether they got to..." Loki sighed at last. "Okay. You win. Tell me what you want to do."

"Um," Thor thought. "I could suck you?"

He hadn't done it before, but he'd had it done to him and it seemed like it ought to be simple enough. 

"If you'll teach me how," he added.

* * *

Every part of Loki was screaming at him as he stripped off his jeans and boxers and sat back down on the couch, spreading his knees wide so that Thor could kneel between them.

But somehow, the guilt was not as powerful as the fluttering in his belly as Thor, wide-eyed, took in the sight of his erect cock, shuffling closer as if drawn to it. Actually licking his lips, for fuck's sake. The guilt was not as powerful as the way Thor had pleaded with him to be allowed to do something, to be allowed to prove himself. The guilt was not as powerful as the rush of his own blood while Thor looked to him for instruction.

"Don't try to show off, kiddo," Loki told him. "Don't try to take more than you're comfortable with. It's okay if you use your hand and just suck on the head, and don't worry too much about..."

Thor looked him right in the eyes as he opened his mouth, broad pink tongue lapping out and licking a stripe up the length of Loki's erection.

“... fuck,” Loki trailed off.

And if Thor's inexperience showed through as he continued, it hardly mattered. His enthusiasm more than made up for it, and Loki was getting to watch as he figured out how to suck cock. As he experimented with licking all over. Tasting the precome from Loki's slit. Wrapping his lips around the tip and sucking, then taking more of it into his mouth. Bobbing up and down, slowly at first. Playing around with suction, with rubbing his tongue over the flesh.

"Fuck," Loki repeated. "Fuck. You're so good at that, Thor. So fucking good."

Just that little praise made Thor puff up, as it always did. He sucked with even more determination.

Loki’s hand was tangled in Thor's soft hair before he knew what he was doing, and the thought of tugging him around just a little bit while he worked, just for the fun of it, was enough to make Loki grit his teeth as his cock twitched with want. 

He was getting to watch himself corrupt his little nephew—because what else could this possibly be?—even though he knew just how much _better_ the kid was than he had ever been, how much kinder, how much worthier of everything, and he almost couldn't...

He felt himself using that grip to pull Thor back.

"Wait," Loki said, catching his breath. 

Thor's eyes gazed up at him, worried, uncertain.

“I can’t let you… I’m sorry…”

“Why not, uncle? I want to. Isn’t it good?”

Loki swallowed. “Of course it is. It’s not that at all. It’s not you, it’s me, I just can’t…”

Thor gave him a grin, though. The confident, cocky boy he hadn’t really seen since that first night, only this time that look was somehow genuine. It was something in his eyes, more knowing. “Let me, uncle. You feel so good in my mouth. Please, let me keep going,” he said, and he batted his eyelashes and licked his tongue up Loki’s length again until Loki couldn’t help but let go of his hair, smoothing it instead before burying his fingers in the long golden strands again, encouraging. 

It would be terrible of him to just enjoy this, wouldn’t it? It would be terrible of him to watch Thor sucking fervently on the head of his cock until the pleasure began to build on itself. 

And Loki _was_ terrible, because that’s what he did. Only at the very end catching himself and trying to pull Thor away again so he didn’t have to taste it, then watching, unable to do anything as the boy just opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue to catch his spill, stroking Loki’s cock with his hand while he shuddered, those sweet blue eyes still gazing up at him. _Adoring_. 

“How was that?” Thor asked, licking his lips and rubbing his fingers through the gobs that had landed on Loki’s belly instead. 

Loki felt like he was in shock. Too much guilt. And too much pleasure. 

All he could do was pull Thor up and kiss him, tasting his own come still in the boy’s mouth. 

“You’re just too fucking good.”

* 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good times have to end eventually. Thor can feel that end approaching. Time to make a decision--and time, maybe, for one last hurrah.

As days turned into weeks and Thor began to feel steadier on his feet, he knew what he would have to do.

He would have to be practical sooner or later, wouldn’t he? He would have to go home eventually, if his parents would let him. 

This time couldn't last forever, no matter how fun it was, no matter how right it felt to be here. No matter how much happier he was.

Being happier didn’t really matter, did it? He had to be responsible. He had to face the things he feared and go back home, back to the real world. 

There was a sense of inevitability to it, like the end of summer, despite the frost on the windows and the early dusk that fell each afternoon. It was looming, like a heavy thundercloud obscuring the horizon, and there was no point in trying to avoid it forever.

Late one evening, Thor spent enough time frowning down at his phone that his uncle noticed. Noticed and actually said something about it.

"What's wrong?"

Thor hesitated. He'd double-checked his messages a dozen times, making sure he hadn't missed any. But his parents hadn't called. And truthfully, he hadn't really thought Dad would, but Mom...

He had started to wonder if maybe they really had disowned him. Maybe the last memory he would have of his parents was his father's glare as he told Thor—quietly, calmly, rationally—to leave and not to come back after he stepped out that door, and his mother's look of worried disappointment in that same moment, her eyes following him but saying nothing, just letting it all happen.

He couldn't think of a way to explain it to his uncle that didn't sound silly. It was bad enough that Loki had already had to comfort him several times; Thor had started to feel awkward about it, hiding in the bathroom with the water running in the sink until he could stop himself and splash his face until the redness faded. 

"They haven't called," he finally answered, feeling himself fidgeting but unable to stop. "I mean, I haven't called them either, so I guess..."

Next to him, Loki's brow furrowed, and his lips pressed together. "It's all right, Thor. It hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s been weeks now. Why haven’t they called? Do you think they really don’t want me to come home?”

“No, I don’t think that,” Loki began, but his answer seemed forced. His voice strained. “They’re just…”

He trailed off, shook his head, staring at nothing. 

"Loki?" Thor said, breaking the thin silence when he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Sorry," Loki said, blinking and seeming to come back to himself. "Your father just really pisses me off sometimes."

Thor nodded, but only faintly. As an only child, he had sometimes wished for a sibling but he couldn't actually imagine having one. The idea of his father and Loki as brothers seemed almost like mythology, something huge and distant and unknowable that had shaped the fabric of the world. The idea that to Loki, Odin was not the towering, all-powerful figure he had always been to Thor, but instead an equal, a former ally and antagonist at once—it was hard for Thor to really grasp.

Loki gave a deep sigh of frustration that hissed over the quiet of the room, mouth twisting in distaste. "It’s not that they don’t want you to come home. I can guarantee you, they do. Look, I mean, they haven’t called but they haven’t cut off your phone, either, have they? So that means they’re keeping their options open. Trying to get you to cave in first so they don’t have to. Odin is… trying to scare you into doing what he wants and not trying to fight back. Just like those jerks at the bar. That’s all.”

“So what should I do, then? _Should_ I call them?"

Loki gazed back at him.

"That depends on what you want."

Thor frowned and fidgeted where he sat.

He had thought about it, and what he really wanted… what he really wanted almost frightened him. If it were up to him, he would want—somehow—to stay here with his uncle. But he also wanted his family to be happy with him. And he wanted to finish school. And he wanted everything to be okay. 

So he had to go back, didn’t he?

So he told his uncle that, and Loki gazed back at him, expression unreadable but intense. 

"Then yes. If that's what you want, I think you will have to call them. You'll have to swallow your pride and let Odin win, or let him think he has. If he thinks you're defying him, it will only get worse."

Thor could feel himself blanch, and Loki took his hand, clasped it between his own.

"I know it will be hard. It won't be for very long, though, really. A couple years might sound like forever now, but you'll look back later and it will seem like the blink of an eye. As soon as you're out of his house, they won't have so much power over you, and it'll get easier. And in the meantime I'll help you any way I can, kiddo, I promise I will. Anything you need from me."

Thor said nothing, staring off into the distance for interminable seconds. Then he nodded.

"Okay."

The phone in his hand lit from the motion of his fingers flitting over it—nervously, pausing on the screen.

"And what if they don't let me come home?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Thor's fingers fluttered some more, but this time his hands took on a definite tremble, until Loki had to reach over and stop him.

"You don't need to do it now. Another day won't matter. Wait until you're feeling steadier."

An hour later, Thor was still bumming around the apartment, nervous and jittery, unable to calm his nerves, and Loki came up behind him, wrapped him firmly in an embrace. Rubbed at his shoulders with strong hands. 

"Let's go out for a little while. Get your mind off it,” he said.

Thor craned his neck to look at him. "Where are we going?"

Loki grinned. "You'll see."

* * *

There was a line outside the venue when they got there, strolling over from the el station together.

Men with pink or turquoise mohawks, women in tight black jeans and leather jackets jingling with silver chains. People milling around, white smoke pouring from their mouths and gooseflesh on bare arms under torn t-shirts in the winter air. Little huddles of friends, more arriving every moment, streaming in from side-streets and shadows.

"You seemed to like the scene when you were younger," Loki murmured, leaning close to him as Thor realized what this was.

It made Thor grin and it made a little bit of dampness come into his eyes.

He had not simply liked it. He had liked that his uncle had shared it with him, and he had liked how new and strange it felt, as if he had been let in on a secret. And he looked over at Loki now, feeling the same sort of adoration.

"Come on."

Inside it was warm with the body heat of the milling crowd, noisy already though the band had not yet finished setting up on stage, the air thick with the scents of booze and leather and people, and Thor let his uncle lead him closer to the front, where the crowd was thicker.

"It's a good idea to get close to the stage early, if you want to be there," Loki told him.

Thor remembered why a few minutes later, when the music started, and in moments the close quarters had become a press of bodies, the crowd lurching and swaying with the heavy bass line, the crashing drums.

Two songs in, and Thor understood why Loki had brought him here. It was impossible to stay in his own head like this, the music humming like eternal thunder against his eardrums, the heat making him break out in a sweat, the push and shove and shouts of the crowd somehow friendly, welcoming. Everyone grinning at him, infectious, and him grinning back, carried along with it.

And through it all he had his uncle beside him, one hand steady on his shoulder as if he were still 13.

This was what Thor really wanted. Biting the bullet, going home and facing his parents' disappointment was what he _had_ to do. But this was what he _wanted_ , with the world seeming huge and bright and filled with so many things that he had only barely glimpsed. A world where someone would reach for his hand to pull him up if he happened to fall. A life without the permanent undercurrent of panic, a life without feeling that his every step was planned out for him and God help him if he stumbled.

This was what he really wanted, and he wanted all he could get while he had the chance.

* * *

The air outside was blessedly cool and fresh, and Thor's ears felt stuffed with cotton.

They had waded away from the stage about an hour into the show, too hot, too sweaty, and after plenty of water Loki had also gotten them beers, so Thor was also still a little giddy, and the ride back to Loki's apartment passed in a blur. All he cared about was what he was planning in his head. What he needed to do before he could possibly go back to his parents' house again.

Loki asked if he'd had fun, and he turned to gaze at his uncle, certainty swelling in his chest as he nodded enthusiastically.

As soon as they were home—he had already begun to think of this as home—he was preparing. He kicked his shoes off in the front room, peeled off his coat.

"I'm going to take a quick shower," he shouted to where Loki had slipped off into the kitchen, got back a muffled affirmative.

And the water felt good, washing away the residual stickiness and soothing the sore muscles of having been pushed and shoved and elbowed half the night, but mostly he focused on being fast, efficient. Squeezing soap onto a washcloth and scrubbing himself, under his arms, down his front, between his legs.

He washed and rinsed as quickly as he could, stood in the steamy room while he scuffed himself down with a towel and rubbed it against his hair to get most of the water out. And then he grabbed Loki's bathrobe from the hanger on the back of the door, slipped it on without bothering to tie it in the front, just holding it closed.

Loki was still in the other room when he peeked his head out, so Thor made his way back into the bedroom.

This, too, already felt like where he belonged. He had spent half his nights here, sleeping in his uncle's embrace.

The thought of leaving all of this ached in the middle of his chest, and he definitely didn’t want to leave without…

“Loki?” he called softly from the half-open doorway. 

Quiet footsteps through the other rooms, and moments later Loki appeared before him, his uncle staring at him with an expression of uncertainty. Almost confusion. 

“Uncle Loki… will you come to bed with me? If I might be going back tomorrow, I want to spend tonight with you."

* * *

Thor could see the tension in his shoulders, the rise and fall as he breathed. The flare of his nostrils. 

“And what do you want to do, kiddo, hm? You know we can’t…”

“I know,” Thor answered quickly. “I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”

It felt bold to close the distance between them and reach out for the collar of Loki’s shirt. To start unbuttoning it with fingers gone slightly clumsy with nerves. But it also felt good. And Loki let him do it. 

Thor didn’t want to forget this. The way Loki looked and the way he felt under Thor’s hands. 

He was beautiful, handsome in a way Thor could not define; Thor had tried, sometimes, to envision him as a young man Thor's own age, had recalled to mind the old family photos he'd seen and tried to overlay them on what was before his eyes, but he could not imagine that Loki had ever been more attractive than he was now. Loki's body was... stories, etched into each scar, each toughened muscle, and Thor wanted to know them all.

And this was what Thor had truly grown up wanting. Someone like Loki to love and to be loved by. Someone who liked him for himself. Someone who didn’t want him to quash himself down or be someone different. Someone who had always known him and loved him anyway.

When he got to Loki’s waist, got his hands on the worn, studded leather belt, Loki’s mouth quirked into a grin and he helped, until they stood there together, skin to skin. Loki’s fingers smoothing Thor’s hair and Thor’s hands resting on his uncle’s hipbones. Loki leaning close to press his lips to Thor’s brow. 

“You just want to be with me,” Loki echoed. “But what exactly does that mean? Remember our agreement. Only what you ask for.”

Thor thought about it. What was the most he could ask for? What might make Loki actually give in? Thor didn’t want to be turned away. Not now.

“Can we… will you touch me, Uncle?”

Loki tilted his head, watching Thor, eyes glinting. “Tell me what you’ve got in mind, little boy.”

Thor found himself panting, barely able to get the words out. “I want your hands on me. All over me, making me feel good. And I want to feel you the same way I would if you were fucking me. Even if you won’t actually let me have you inside me.”

And Loki gave in. He let Thor show him what he wanted, and Thor watched as Loki’s eyes darkened at the words.

Lay down naked behind him, arms wrapped around and Thor gasped and wriggled as he felt Loki’s erection slide into the space between his legs, rubbing against the curve of his bottom and sliding against the skin of his balls. And then started moving against him, softly, while wrapping his long, strong fingers around Thor’s cock and stroking him. 

“Don’t think I don’t _want_ to fuck you, little boy,” Loki murmured right against his ear, a low growl that made shivers course through him deliciously. “I do. You would feel so good around my cock. You would be so good.”

Thor arched, trying to angle his body to line up with that searing heat between his legs, trying to slip it inside himself somehow, deviously, trying to trick Loki into giving it to him before he knew what was happening. “Then do it, Uncle. Please, I want it. This might be our last chance. Please.” Loki’s cock felt so good already, just hard and hot and delicious against him. 

But Loki’s other arm came to wrap around his waist, pinning him, holding his squirming body in place. 

“You trying to get more than I’ll give you?” Loki growled against his skin.

Thor could only moan. 

“You think I don’t take good enough care of you?”

Loki’s hand on Thor’s cock tightened, sped up, making Thor gasp, his limbs beginning to tremble. “You do,” he breathed. “It’s so good, Uncle, I just want more…”

And then he squeezed his legs together, and he was rewarded with the sound of Loki’s intake of breath in his ear. With the feeling of Loki moving against him, sliding back and forth between his thighs. 

“You want to feel me come undone because of you, is that it? You want to be able to feel how much I want you?”

Frantic, desperate, Thor nodded, and he got what he desired. 

It was a discovery, finding out how he could feel it when Loki got close, just from the heat and firmness of the organ rubbing against him, from the speed of his thrusts, from the feeling of his hand tightening on Thor’s cock and the wet kisses lavished on the back of his neck. 

And oh Thor had barely been holding off himself and it was so easy, so easy to let it all rise up inside, being held tight and touched so perfectly and being _almost, so very nearly_ fucked the way he wanted, and being loved and kissed and…

The sounds Loki made against his ear when they both came, Thor resolved that he would never forget a moment of it. And the feeling of his come smearing between Thor’s legs. While he was still shuddering, Thor reached down to try to feel it and instead met Loki’s hand still curled around him, and unconsciously he wrapped their fingers together, too happy for words.

* * *

Afterward, Thor stretched and turned in Loki’s embrace until he could kiss him. Until he could nip at his lips, could nuzzle against his chest, could put his arms around him. 

Thor didn’t want to go home. But he’d have to. So let this be a last bit of happiness, to tide him over.

And Thor was still high with it, his body singing, his heart overflowing. It was all so _good_. Being held by someone who cared about him. Being loved by someone who would protect him. This was everything he had ever wanted, and he needed for Loki to know it, before he left again. He needed at least that.

“Do you remember when you took me to that show when I was younger? I think I’ve been in love with you since then. Or even before then, but that was when I started wanting you. I didn’t… I didn’t _understand_ it until later, but I think I already wanted...”

Loki went utterly still against him, tension running through him like a wire.

“Since you were thirteen?”

“Mm-hm,” Thor nodded.

Loki answered with a hiss. “Fuck. Don’t _tell_ me that.”

And he… actually sounded angry, enough for Thor to feel a stab of worry. His heart thumped.

“Uncle?”

“Do you have any idea how much more fucked up that makes all of this? I’m glad you had already decided to try to go home, because… fuck, kiddo.”

* * *

Loki’s heart was pounding and his insides were clenched tight with guilt. 

Loki really hadn’t meant to corrupt him. He’d thought about it, enjoyed the idea when it was a vicious little fantasy, a way of getting back at the rest of the family. But not like this. He hadn’t thought about what it would actually mean for Thor. 

He loved his nephew. He always had—he’d loved palling around with him, loved teaching him stuff, loved carrying him around on his shoulders for the way it made him laugh. He’d loved the kid for his gentle heart and his sweet nature, for not knowing that he was supposed to shun the family’s black sheep.

He hadn’t meant to taint him with whatever was wrong with Loki. But he had. Everything the family had ever said about him was true. He destroyed everything he touched.

All of these thoughts got worse, though, when he saw Thor’s face go suddenly bright shame-red in response to his words. 

Thor’s breaths went shaky. Wet blue eyes blinking in the dimness of the room. His whole body cringing away. 

Loki’s throat tightened.

“No… I didn’t mean it like that. Thor, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just…”

Loki reached over to stroke a gentle hand over Thor’s shoulder, and Thor’s eyes pleaded with him as he moved closer, for comfort.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. Please. You’ve gotta understand. I just… I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t ever want to do that to you. I’ve had enough things in my life fuck me up, and I don’t want to be that to you. I’ve _regretted_ enough things in my life, and I don’t want to be one of your regrets.”

Thor let out a shaky, shuddery breath, gazing into his eyes. “You won’t be, Uncle.”

“You don’t know that. It’s not always the things you expect. It _usually_ isn’t the things you expect. Trust me on this.”

“I won’t regret anything about being with you. I love you.”

Loki shook his head, but he couldn’t explain. 

“Let’s just forget about it,” he said instead. “Let’s just go to bed, kiddo. C’mere.”

And Thor let Loki guide him down onto the bed, let Loki wrap him in an embrace, and as far as Loki could tell, he fell into a deep sleep in Loki’s arms. 

The next day, Thor might be going home, and Loki felt almost nauseous at the thought. But he was going to have to be supportive. To tell Thor he was making the best choice. He was going to quash down his own worst instincts that didn’t like the idea one bit. 

For Thor’s sake. Loki was going to do the right thing for him at last. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor finally calls his parents, and they tentatively agree to let him come home. Odin comes to collect him. Surely this will go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah you guys, only a couple chapters left after this! We're in the thick of it now! Hope y'all enjoy this one XD
> 
> Also, hope you're all staying safe out there! <3

The next morning, without letting himself talk himself out of it, Thor called. He was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, having refused breakfast—at least until he'd done it, just in case he got so nervous he threw up—and Loki was sitting there at the table, coffee cooling in front of him. Standing by as moral support.

"You can do it," he'd said, giving Thor's biceps a squeeze.

Now, the phone rang, each ring stretching into a silence that was enough time for him to doubt everything.

He had chosen to call his father first, because that had always been the understood rule. Odin's word was law, and even if Mom had disagreed with his decisions, she would still uphold them. And this way, his father wouldn't think he was weak, trying to avoid a confrontation. Only if Dad didn't answer, then he could try—

The ringing stopped, and there was the sound of Odin's voice on the other end, a slight tinny echo in the line but just as commanding and stern as ever.

Thor had to force the words out.

* * *

Four hours later, Odin was there.

Loki had waited through the brief conversation that had taken place over the phone, listening to Thor's side of it and trying not to imagine the worst of the part he couldn't hear, but it was rather hard not to. Thor had been a ball of nerves, and even after he'd hung up five minutes later he'd been a wreck. He'd sat down—practically collapsing into the chair—and immediately his knee had started bouncing.

Loki waited.

"He said he's going to drive up here right now," Thor said after several deep, shaky breaths, looking up white-faced, eyes startlingly blue. "He said he'll let me come home. Probably. If I'm... if we talk and he likes what I have to say."

A lot more had been said, but Loki didn't pry. He certainly didn't blame Thor for not wanting to repeat what had probably not been Odin's kindest words. 

Instead they had spent those last few hours doing nothing much. Thor's bag was still mostly packed, and there was no other busywork to keep him distracted. And by the look of it, distraction wouldn't have helped much.

At one point, an hour before Odin could possibly arrive, Loki pulled Thor into an embrace, standing in the middle of the living room and simply hugging him, feeling Thor go almost limp against him with a soft sigh, and they stayed that way far too long for any normal embrace.

It was strange that his little nephew was almost as tall as him now, and was almost certainly still growing. It was strange watching him try to prepare himself, and it was strange fearing for him, worrying about him more than Loki had ever worried about anyone. It was strange feeling the rapid patter of Thor’s heartbeat and knowing that his own was racing as well.

He wanted to have some trick up his sleeve, some clever way out to offer him. Some way to spare him the confrontation ahead. But for once in his life, Loki could see no escape. No plan. Nothing that would actually do any good. 

Loki had never felt quite this helpless.

But maybe this was how it had to be. Maybe for someone like Thor, this was something that had to be faced up to, something that couldn’t be averted and avoided for years, to linger always just over his shoulder like a bad memory. Something that wouldn’t be escaped by burning bridges behind him and forever sleeping lightly in case it crept up after him.

Loki didn’t want that for Thor anyway. So maybe this was the only way. And Loki would just have to stand with him. 

He kissed Thor once more, not quite chaste, a kiss on the mouth but not deep either.

The quiet, uncertain noise Thor made tugged on Loki's heart. But there was nothing he could do aside from remind himself that they were doing the right thing, the thing that would end up with Thor being happy, successful, living the life he deserved.

It was difficult to pull himself away, but eventually he did.

* * *

And now here they were.

Surely Loki had known beforehand what this would be like. How bad it would be, because that was somehow inevitable, but it still came as a shock.

From the very first harsh knock on the door, when he had stood back and invited his brother inside and watched as he squinted around the apartment in obvious judgment, his steely eye looking back at Loki between his glances around the room, like a drill sergeant at inspection.

"I'm surprised my son came here," Odin said, hands clasped behind his back.

Loki shrugged. "I'm glad he felt he could. And I certainly wouldn't have turned away family, any more than you would have."

There was a twitch in Odin's jaw then. "I'm also surprised you didn't bother to inform me when he arrived.

It was hard for Loki to do little more than smile, tense. But he managed. Barely. "He's an adult. I didn't really think it was my place to try to interfere."

“He may be an adult in the eyes of the law, but he is clearly not able to behave like one, though it seems much the same can be said of you,” Odin answered, with a level calm. “Anyone who had Thor’s best interests in mind would have contacted his parents.” 

And what could he say to that? What could he do except stand there with something twisting in his belly and all the things he wanted to say held clenched behind his teeth, for Thor’s sake. To not ruin this chance for him.

Thor had just then emerged from the hallway, and he walked already with his shoulders hunched over, with his head low, and his eyes flitted back and forth between his uncle and his father, nervous, ashamed…

All at once, Loki was struck with a deep sense of familiarity. He had stood in the middle of this scene before. From the distance of twenty years, from the perspective of someone who'd come out on the other side of pain—maybe wiser, definitely older—Loki almost wanted to laugh, or break something.

The tide of inevitability carried him along as the three of them sat down in the front room in a semblance of a reasonable conversation, and he watched Odin, imposing and hard as granite with hands perched on his knees, as he asked Thor what he'd been thinking when he left town. He listened as Odin reminded him of the number of strings that had been pulled to get Thor merely probation after his disastrous stunt, and now Thor had run off to the city, probably getting into all kinds of potential trouble, proving his lack of foresight and good sense. And he watched Thor try to answer without letting go of his temper, because it would only give his father something to latch onto. Another reason to call him childish and ignorant and foolish.

Loki recognized with knife-edged humor just how much his brother now resembled their father, and just how much he hated the fact, and all the memories that flooded back in its wake.

Bor had always been so good at making them feel that if they were not meeting his standards, they were nothing. Were worthless. Did not even deserve consideration. And Odin, after years of being Loki's ally against that tyranny, had decided that he could fit the mold.

The only thing that Odin had changed was that he was not as loud about it. He did not yell and curse, as Bor had, at least not right off the bat. Instead he focused his one eye, carefully turned the cuffs of his sleeves, and explained each particular in which you were wrong. He would never be the one to lose his cool first.

From the outside looking in, he would seem only the voice of reason.

And it was playing out in Loki's living room, his brother—with utmost calm and rationality—tearing apart his nephew, whose eyes were downcast, whose fists clenched low at his sides, whose brow knitted with the effort of not saying anything that Odin could use against him.

And from Odin, yet another perfectly calm, rational dig at his son's intelligence—

"Don't fucking talk to him like that, Odin," Loki said, anger at last overflowing.

A thoughtful frown, as if being called out were a bizarre occurrence which he had never before imagined, and which could only have happened in error.

"There is nothing wrong with what I'm saying," Odin said, almost musing, "and it seems that's what it takes to get him to listen. My son must learn that his actions have consequences that will affect him for the rest of his life."

Loki really had been here before. Once it had been him sitting across from his own father, becoming more convinced with each angry word—like an itch under his skin—that he was in the wrong, that Dad was right and he should have just shut up and obeyed. Arguing with himself each night afterward, mentally playing out the fights again and again and never winning.

But this time it was different. This time the one being torn apart was someone he _knew_ did not deserve to be treated that way. And out of the corner of his eye he could see Thor staring at him as he leaned forward, tensed to keep going.

"He already knows that, Odin," Loki answered, jaw twitching with the effort of restraint. "The kid you raised already knows all about responsibility—maybe too much—and he doesn't need you cutting him down because he made one mistake. You won't talk to him like that in my house. He doesn't deserve it, and I don't want to listen to it."

Odin's eye narrowed. And then, because any other option was an impossibility, he acted as if Loki had not spoken, turning away from him and facing his son.

"Your mother and I are willing to let you come home now," he said. "Pack up your things and I'll drive you back, and we'll figure the rest out later."

Thor looked between the two of them, uncertain. 

And suddenly Loki couldn't stand it and couldn’t keep silent another moment.

"You don't have to go with him, Thor," he said, returning his gaze and hoping he understood. "The couch is still yours."

It was the first time in years that Loki had seen his brother get visibly angry, rounding on him with a scowl. "No, Loki, he is _not_ staying here to suffer your influence any longer. You are the last person who has any right to talk about responsibility, seeing as you've never taken any in your own life. And you will definitely not dictate to me how I am to speak to my son!"

Loki was surprised to feel himself smiling.

"All I said is that he's welcome here, and he always will be. The decision is entirely up to him."

And he reached over to his nephew's shoulder and squeezed, for courage. The only sort of touch he dared.

* * *

Things got worse then, for reasons Thor couldn’t immediately understand, but he felt it in the pit of his stomach, with a bone-deep certainty, a rising dread like nausea. 

A simple, comforting touch. That was all it had been. And his uncle standing up for him. Maybe that was the reason why Odin turned toward Loki instead, sizing him up and squaring his shoulders and Thor could not even remember, later, what exactly Odin said, the words coming like a hail of bullets, rapid and unfeeling but capable of tearing effortlessly through flesh. References to incidents Thor didn’t know about, things he didn’t understand.

Loki’s answer, though, was like venom. In an instant the scene went from a seemingly calm discussion to his uncle on his feet with furious energy, spitting accusations at his father, roaring with rage, and Odin standing stock still in front of him with his face grey and immobile, his stony eye narrowing at each curse. The tangible feeling of Loki's anger boiling over, making him close the distance between them. Daring Odin. Challenging.

Fights always started fast. Thor knew that, blink and you’d miss it. But this conflict could not possibly come to blows. Thor couldn’t imagine that. He had never before seen his father resort to violence. Odin would never have needed to; he could win any fight with sharp words and the intimidation of his piercing glare.

So when it happened, Thor was too shocked to move. Or think. He’d blinked and almost missed it. 

Loki reached to shove at Odin's chest at the same moment that one of Odin's big fists took hold of Loki's shirt as the other pulled back and struck him like a sledgehammer, hitting in the middle of his abdomen. The heavy punch of Loki's breath as he doubled over.

Loki recovered fast, but he was already at a disadvantage.

Twisting away from Odin's grip, Loki threw a wild blow that glanced off Odin's jaw. By then Odin had drawn back to hit him again.

Loki clearly knew how to fight, but Odin had 50 pounds on him.

Thor stared in wide-eyed horror, frozen in place.

Soon Thor lost track of the blows, could only put together the sounds of curses and snarls and muffled grunts. Heavy thuds, bone-jarring cracks. And then the crash as Odin knocked his brother to the ground and went down with him, hands closing around his throat and shoving against the floor while Loki kicked and struggled but couldn’t throw him off.

"Dad!" Thor shouted, the stasis breaking. "Dad, stop!"

Odin gave no sign of having heard him, growling half-incomprehensible words at Loki pinned beneath him as his fingers squeezed and Loki's face began to flush a deep crimson, limbs thrashing harder to no avail. Thor watched helplessly as his father strangled Loki and gave no sign of letting go.

"... think you're going to tell me how to deal with my own son? You think you have a right to say anything to me, after all the family has done for you? You worthless piece of..."

Thor yelled as he took two running steps and barreled into his father, his entire body weight in motion to dislodge him and knowing while he did it that it was stupid, that he would pay for it, hot dread searing through him but unable to watch a moment longer, unable to do nothing and just let it happen.

* * *

Ten minutes later it was all over, but Thor couldn’t stop shaking.

Odin had gone, storming out of Loki's apartment almost before Thor knew what was happening. He vaguely remembered his father saying something about leaving Thor to his poor choices before the door slammed, but mostly he'd just been dazed, feeling his heart thumping in his chest, feeling his eyes sting, his entire body flushing hot and cold as he realized what had just happened.

He had hit his father. And he had been so relieved to hear Loki start coughing that he'd almost not cared about anything else, just for a moment.

Scrambling to his feet, nervous as his dad picked himself up off the floor with ponderous dignity, eyeing him darkly.

And then Odin had glanced down at Loki, who was still rubbing at his throat, and over again at Thor. And then... his father left. And it was over.

Thor almost collapsed to his knees at his uncle's side, where Loki was groaning as he pushed himself up on his elbows, and then to sitting.

"Are you okay, Loki?" Thor asked, voice feeling thin in his lungs, ears ringing with the sound of his heartbeat.

Loki looked up at him, nodding. Then a new realization seemed to wash over him, and he reached out a hand to touch Thor's face.

"Oh, kiddo. Yeah, don't worry about me. Are you all right?"

Thor swallowed, still feeling unsteady, but nodded.

"I'm so sorry you had to be in the middle of that. You shouldn't have had to do that."

Thor took another few breaths. "It's not your fault. You didn't make my dad try to kill you. You were sticking up for me..."

Loki blinked a few times, and he seemed to be reeling. "Fuck," he said. "I guess that just screwed you out of going home, though."

"I don't think I wanted to anymore anyway," Thor answered with a shrug.

The feeling of Loki's arms wrapping around him was welcome, though, and the comfort of it made him sigh. He hadn't realized how much he needed that.

Loki held him close and murmured against his hair. "We'll be our own little family. They don't know what they just lost."

Thor squeezed back, and the feeling of his uncle's body, warm and vital and strong after the frozen moment of terror, the shock within a burst of violence and his own feeling of helplessness, being left trembling afterward... Thor felt himself make a low sound, a moan pressed against the curve of Loki's neck.

Fear was very close to something else, and the frustrations were the same, and he had a sudden need to feel something better.

And when he moved to press his lips against Loki's, he found his feelings mirrored, his uncle's palm against his cheek.

Then Loki was moving, pulling him to his feet, stumbling with him, tugging him back into the bedroom, still tangled together and only separating to pull off clothes.

Contusions marked Loki's body, a few spots on his ribs already darkening to bruises, drawing Thor's gaze helplessly.

"Loki? Are you okay?"

"What?" Loki said, following Thor's gaze before letting out a breathy laugh. "Yes. I'll probably feel them more later. I'm all right. And so are you. You were so good, so brave. I'm so proud of you and proud that you love me. Come here."

Thor happily obeyed.

* * *

Lying there with his knees spread, his uncle's fingers inside him getting him good and wet and open, Thor realized that the thought that had chilled and driven him days ago—that his father would kill them both if he knew what they were doing—now didn’t matter at all.

And it was easier, now, easier not to get nervous about what was going to happen—easier to blink up at Loki as his fingers twisted and moved inside him, and moan at the feeling. He wanted this, he wanted it even more now, and the way Loki gazed down at him with eyes full of fierce desire and protectiveness and love only made it better.

Then Loki's fingers withdrew, and instead Loki moved up between Thor's thighs until he felt the new but unmistakeable feel of a thick cockhead pressing against him, slipping in the wetness there. And to Thor it felt like defiance.

Loki's eyes were locked with his in a query, and Thor nodded with desperate conviction, and slowly Loki pushed inside him.

It was overwhelming, stretching him inch by inch with a fullness that Thor had barely imagined, and it felt right. It was hot and the slide was smooth and when he spread his limbs out wider, accepting, Loki slid a little deeper into him.

For so long he had been afraid of stepping off the path that had been set for him, falling short, being found unworthy.

And this was what it felt like to no longer be afraid.

* * *

Some part of Loki was still insisting that this was wrong.

He was defiling Odin's perfect son, while bruises bloomed on his own body from being throttled by his brother just minutes before. While adrenalin still rushed and thudded through his veins. It could easily be retaliation, getting back at the family by corrupting the most perfect thing that had ever come out of it. But that wasn't what this was about. It was about how his sweet, gorgeous, strong little nephew was looking at him, full of hope, pulling him closer with his heels.

Part of him still felt certain that anything that felt this good had to be wrong. But another part was wondering—for the first time—if maybe it really wasn't.

Maybe Thor really needed what he could give.

Maybe he could give what Thor needed.

Loki had believed it all for so long, believed that he was all the things the family said he was—that he was selfish, a failure, a criminal. _Bad_ in some way that was too deep to ever shed. But today Loki had seen with horrible clarity, the scene too familiar, and every word from Odin's mouth had all been the worst, cruelest lies meant only to keep Thor in line, to control him. None of it had been fair. None of it had been true.

So maybe, when it had been him… maybe he was not what they said either. And if that was so, then...

Loki gazed down at Thor, hoping he was not corrupting something precious. Hoping that this could somehow truly be what they both needed to forget the lies, because it felt like it should be as he thrust forward, pulled back, repeated the motion—slowly, carefully, wanting to give Thor as much pleasure as he could—and Thor moaned and gazed up at him, need written all over his body, and Loki wanted no more than to love him.

* * *

"Do you want to try riding, little boy? I know you'll be good at it," Loki said a few minutes later, and he watched as Thor's eyes lit up.

Thor rolled with him eagerly, straddled his hips as Loki guided him, started to shift around a little to get a feel for the position. Tentatively, he rocked back and forth, and Loki's hands rested on his thighs. And there was something about it that made him even more beautiful, watching him figuring things out, growing more confident with each passing moment, needing only a little encouragement.

Loki could only imagine how amazing he would be someday when he had the freedom to truly flourish. He was amazing already.

And he rode like every motion, every little twist of his hips, was a discovery, eyes full of wonder. The blond curls bounced where his hair brushed against his shoulders, and the slim musculature of his chest and arms rippled as he pushed himself back and forth, and he gasped and moaned at the way he could make Loki's cock move inside him.

He was so good, so beautiful, and the feel of his body clenching, the tightness of him was almost too much for Loki to handle.

"You're so good at that, Thor," Loki murmured as Thor tried something new, apparently sparking something inside himself if the sudden whimper was anything to go by. "Is it as good as you hoped?"

Thor nodded, frantic. "Oh yes, Uncle Loki."

Holding himself together forcefully, Loki let out a strained laugh. "If you get any better, it might actually kill me. Damn, you feel so good..."

Thor blushed at the words but grinned. "Oh yeah? And so if I do this..." he whispered as he swiveled his hips a little faster.

A moan mingled in with Loki's laughter, but Thor's hard, flushed, dripping cock was within easy reach, and Loki wrapped his hand around it, felt its twitching.

"Ah!" Thor cried as Loki stroked him firmly.

"I'll be damned if a teenage boy shows up a grown man for stamina," Loki growled to him, and he reached up with his other hand to tease and pinch the cute little nipples on Thor's chest. "I'm going to make you come so hard, and then I'm gonna fuck you again. I'm gonna teach you everything, little boy. Raise you up right. Do you want that?"

Thor moaned again and nodded, pushing his cock into Loki's hand, rocking back to fill himself again. "Please, Loki, yes, please!"

It didn't take long before Thor was coming apart, motions dissolving into a desperate writhing, and then Loki canted his own hips to pound up into him from below, urging him on.

"Yes, there you go, kiddo, take it, come for me—oh, you're so good, yes, there you go..."

Thor spilled with a gasp, his body clenching and shuddering.

And true to his word, Loki fucked him again only a few minutes later, starting while he recovered—panting and blinking and grinning a dreamy grin—laid him back against the pillows and massaged him all over, kissing every part, nipping with gentle teeth, praising all along the way.

*


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath. The fallout. And figuring out where to go from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah only one more chapter to go, you guys!! 
> 
> Hope you are all staying safe and healthy out there! Stories may not be able to save us, but they sure can help. I hope this one does. <3 you all.

It was a couple hours later that the calls began, starting weird and getting weirder.

First—and probably to have been expected—was when Thor's phone began to buzz and he looked at the number for a long hesitation before sliding his finger across the red bubble marked "decline."

A few minutes later it happened again, and Thor's look of stubborn nonchalance turned into a frown.

"It's Mom this time," he said.

Loki raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and Thor's frown deepened.

"I don't want to talk to her," he said, and swallowed heavily, maybe hearing himself. "Not yet. Not today."

A few minutes after that it was Loki's phone humming on the table, and the name "Frigga" in bright letters on its face.

Loki sighed and answered while Thor eyed him with alarm.

"Hello?"

Loki had never really gotten along with his sister-in-law. That had made him a little sad in the beginning—when they were younger, she had seemed nice, and he had wanted to like her, and he had thought for a while that maybe she would be good for Odin. But the opposite had happened—or maybe it had just been inevitable.

Loki remembered after Thor was born. That was when Frigga had turned from nice (if a bit distant) to looking at him like something she'd scraped off the bottom of her shoe. With an infant in her arms, she'd looked at him—with his piercings and his weirdness and his string of slightly shady jobs and his failures—like he was a danger to her child, just by existing. She had become the one telling Odin not to let his brother stay with them any longer.

And now her voice was strained as she answered his greeting.

"Odin told me what happened," she said. "Is Thor there with you?"

Loki let the silence stretch, glancing over at his nephew, who was trying not to listen with too-obvious worry. "He is."

A huffed breath. "May I speak to him, please?"

She was trying to be polite—the bare minimum of politeness to disguise her distaste for him, her suspicion.

It didn't matter. Loki did not care, because this wasn't about him. His own feelings were beside the point. This was about Thor, whose knuckles were white as he listened.

"No."

He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought she gasped in shock at the simple refusal. "And why not?"

"Because just a few minutes ago, when you tried to call his phone, he told me he doesn't want to talk to you. And I'm not going to force him."

Loki could practically feel the cold fire undoubtedly flaring in her eyes.

"I'm his mother."

Loki's lips stretched apart into something that was not a grin. "Yes. And your son doesn't feel comfortable talking to you right now. Maybe you should ask yourself why he feels that way, because I bet you he has a reason."

"Loki," Frigga began. "I know you and I have not been close. But I need to know my son is all right. Surely you can understand that?"

Loki gritted his teeth. "He's not all right. He's been kicked out of the house by his parents over a stupid mistake, and he just had to try to keep his father from strangling his uncle after hearing all about what a worthless son he is. He's going through a lot. But he's a tough kid, and he's handling it. And when he's ready, I promise you that I'll remind him you wanted to talk to him. That's probably the best you can ask for right now."

For a long time, there was silence, faint voices in the background that made him wonder where she was calling from. Then...

"Thank you," she said, stiff and tense enough to break. "And thank you for taking him in."

When Loki hung up, Thor was staring at him with wide eyes.

But the oddest—and worst—of the calls came a little while after.

An unknown number, and Loki frowned and picked up.

"Loki Burisson?"

"Mm-hm?"

"This is the police..."

* * *

It took a while to get everything sorted out. Several calls, and then pulling on the closest Loki had to business wear, and—well, Thor didn't really have anything like that with him, but he fit well enough in one of Loki's button-downs, the dark charcoal-grey one—and dragging themselves down to the station, where they talked for several hours to a detective about what had happened with Odin that day, and what that might mean for Thor's probation.

It was suggested that living with an uncle who could soon be charged with assault might not be reasonable or wise.

Thor began to look very nervous then, but he said little, sitting in the chair next to Loki's, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

"My understanding was that he was given summary probation,” Loki said. “Not formal. As long as he's not getting into trouble, it shouldn't matter where he lives." 

The cop shuffled a couple papers on the desk before him, glanced over one. "Officially, that's accurate."

Loki bit back a groan. _Officially_. Which meant this wasn't. This was someone owing Odin a favor.

"And has my brother in fact filed charges against me?"

The detective met his stare. "Not at this time."

In the silence that followed, Loki could see Thor squirming out of the corner of his eye.

"It wasn't my uncle's fault," Thor said, apparently unable to keep quiet any longer. "Officer, it wasn't. My dad started the fight. And he almost... he was trying to choke my uncle. I'll say so in court if I have to."

Loki only barely stopped himself from reaching over to squeeze his knee, but he held out a hand, low, a gesture for calm.

"No, you won't. Your father would never forgive you. And it won't come to that anyway."

The interview did not last much longer after that, with Loki making the appropriate noises and leading his still-nervous nephew out of the station.

On the train back to the apartment, he did squeeze Thor's knee.

"He won't actually do it. He's trying to scare us, just the same as before."

Thor looked up to him, face pale. "How can you know he won't do it? What if he does?"

Loki tilted his head. "If he does, you're right, he'll probably win, because he has the clout and the money for that. So I'd maybe get a couple months in jail, at worst, and you'd have to go home. But he won't. Bringing the law into family problems… no, that would basically be admitting he can't handle it any other way. And our family—ha, that we _don't_ do."

Thor made a worried sound.

"And it's worth the risk."

Another squeeze of Thor's knee coaxed a little smile from him, and soon enough they were home again.

* * *

As it turned out, Loki was right.

Days passed, and Thor did not go home, yet there were no more officious phone calls, no knocks on the door, no summons.

Days became weeks, and Thor's nerves began to settle, and he stopped thinking only in terms of what he had thought he would be doing right now—winter was grinding onward, and back at school the semester would be in full swing—and thought of what he could still do instead.

He tagged along with Loki on his jobs a few times, helping him lug around his equipment and just watching him, and other days he stayed back at the apartment but spent the time looking into new schools, the local colleges here in the city, other places not far away. Trying to think about what he really wanted to do, as Loki had said when he first arrived.

The strangest part was how easy it was (and sometimes not) as they became their own little family. The times Thor found himself expecting to be criticized, shoulders tensing, or the same thing happening without him even realizing why he suddenly felt on edge and angry. Holdover feelings that it took him a moment to shake—only, his uncle almost always noticed, took care to reassure him, somehow without ever making him feel weak or like he was a burden.

A family of only two... it felt small, fragile. It felt warm. Movie nights, remnants of pizza on the table and Thor sitting in front of the couch, his back between Loki's knees, and Loki occasionally leaning forward to tousle his hair, stealing a kiss. Thor leaning his head back against his uncle's thigh and grinning up at him, pleased and preening and finally maybe even believing that everything was going to be okay.

* * *

Somewhere in there, Thor got back into contact with his friends, with Sif and the guys, and somehow (Thor had not been sure Loki would agree to it, or if it was even a good idea) that had ended up with visitors one weekend.

It had gone better than he expected. They had all gone out for noodles, Loki staying behind to let him catch up with his friends in peace, and then they’d headed back to the apartment to hang out for a couple of hours in the evening, and the rest of them had spent most of the visit not even having to avoid prying too much about what had happened at school and with his parents—they were far too interested in what he had been doing in the city, what it was like. And he had plenty of stories. Punk shows and bars and pool halls. Adventures and the everyday tedium of living, but in a way that was new and foreign to all of them. 

They’d talked, and Loki had let them share a six-pack (well, Volstagg and Hogun were old enough anyway), and they’d sacked out together on the couch to halfway pay attention to a movie, and somewhere in there Sif had spent a long, thoughtful moment with her head tilted, looking at Thor.

“You really seem different,” she said. She reached over and twirled a lock of his hair between her fingers, casually, like she used to do sometimes.

“Yeah?” Thor answered. “Well, I mean, a lot of stuff has happened…”

“You seem happy now.”

And what could he say? He was. 

* * *

But there were still challenges ahead, of course. 

After a few months, enough time for tempers to cool, he had to talk to his parents again. But differently, this time. A meeting carefully arranged on neutral territory, in a place public enough to keep things from going too badly, or at least too loud: they’d all agreed to lunch at a cafe in the city.

And at the start, Thor had tried not to hope for too much. 

“The trouble with family,” Loki had told him as they got ready to head out the door, “is that they know just where your weak spots are, so they know how to offer what will sound like a good deal. Make sure you know what you really want and what you don’t before you even go in there. That way… you don’t have to try to sort through it when emotions are running high. Remember, whenever someone asks you to make a fast decision, they don’t want you to think it through.”

And then Loki had pulled him into an embrace, for strength.

Three hours later when they got home, Thor was still shaking from nerves.

He’d almost wavered, at his mother’s pleas.

“I’ve been so worried about you, Thor,” she had said, reaching across the table to him, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. “Do you have any idea how afraid we were when you left and didn’t let us know where you were? Anything could have happened to you and we wouldn’t have known. Do you not care about us at all?”

The guilt rushed in until he was nearly drowning in it, and he didn’t know how to answer, because he couldn’t explain why that wasn’t _right_. So he kept quiet. He’d looked away from her face, and he’d felt bad about that too, finding himself studying every detail of the light fixtures in the cafe. Frosted amber glass, angular bronze below. Diamonds and circles. Dust stuck in the corners. He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders. 

He’d almost been swayed by Odin, also, on his best behavior, telling him about all the things he was giving up by not coming home. Money. Help. Whatever he needs. How things could be just the way they were before, but better. 

“We just want to see you live up to your potential and not throw your life away, Thor.” 

Thor had almost wavered. It would be easier like that, wouldn’t it? The path of safety. The road he’d had under his feet for so long, the one he’d been told was the only road there was. Where he did whatever his parents said was best, obeyed their commands, lived up to their expectations, and the reward was that he could continue to do so and would not be cast out and thrown away.

Thor almost wavered. But then he remembered the things Loki had told him. The things he’d thought through and decided on before he stepped out the door. So now… he smiled. 

“I know you both want what’s best for me, and I don’t want to throw my life away either. But I’m happy here, and I have to at least try to do things my own way, whether you agree with it or not. And I have Uncle Loki here to help me, so I’m not alone.”

They hadn’t liked that, but there was nothing, really, that they could do. And after another little while of awkward conversation, they had all gone home, with Thor agreeing to take their calls now and then, and everything else staying at an uncomfortable stalemate.

“You did amazing, kiddo,” Loki said while holding him once they got home, rubbing his back in slow circles. “I’m so proud of you for sticking to what you wanted and not letting them get to you. You did great.”

* * *

It had been an illuminating meeting for Loki, as well, though he’d mostly sat back during it, as quiet moral support munching on a sandwich and sipping black coffee, his arm stretched out along the back of the booth.

When he was younger, he had been on his own, just him against the world. He’d never had someone in his corner.

He’d never imagined _being_ the person in someone else’s. 

But in a way, it suited him. And while Loki didn’t have the family’s resources or power or money, he had kept himself alive. He had learned a lot of things. He could spot a con a mile away, and he wasn’t afraid of hardship, and he knew why all of this mattered so much. 

Whatever happened, he would be there for Thor any way he needed to be. 

They would just have to see what the future would bring.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And what came later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah here we are at the end! I guess I've made you guys wait long enough. I hope it satisfies. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you are all hanging in there!
> 
> Say hi to me [on tumblr](https://illwynd.tumblr.com/) or I'll see you in the next fic! :D

_One year later_

It was a hot, humid day in the middle of summer, and Loki headed home through the heat haze and golden light of late afternoon.

The last few months had been, well, chaotic. Loki had been kept busy trying to help Thor any way he could, scrounging up resources and ideas and trying to do enough worrying for both of them, so that his nephew wouldn’t need to. But there was nothing wrong with that. There was some kind of purpose in being able to help Thor. There was satisfaction in each little triumph. Despite all the chaos, things were _good_ , in a way Loki wasn’t really used to.

Perhaps that in itself was what left him feeling oddly unsettled. Other times in his life when he’d been this content, the other shoe had always been about to drop.

That uneasiness had been growing lately, and everything seemed to fall into place when he got home that afternoon, swung the door open, and found Thor waiting for him, looking calm but serious. Asking to talk to him.

It was easy to guess where this was going, and Loki realized he’d been expecting it, in the back of his mind, the whole time. 

All these months, Thor had been figuring out what he wanted to do from here. And Loki had never really believed that the answer was going to involve continuing to live with his uncle forever. Why would he? Loki was only a stop along the way, and that was almost certainly for the best. It was really the only sensible option. 

And Loki was going to continue to be supportive, no matter what Thor had decided. Loki was going to be proud of him, and he would do whatever he could for him. 

As they sat down on the couch together, he steeled himself not to show any of the rest of what he would feel about it. The things Thor didn’t need to know. 

The fan in the window hummed, trying to keep some air moving, but aside from that, the place was quiet. Dust motes swirled in a tilting ray of golden sunlight. Thor’s knee bounced a few times until it came to rest with his hand atop it. 

“I’ve been thinking about the stories you told me about when you first left home,” Thor said. “About what happened between you and my dad and your folks back then.”

“Yeah?” 

“So… I mean, I know it was a long time ago. But you were on your own, then, right? You didn’t have anyone to go to like I did.”

Loki only nodded, frowning. This wasn’t the conversation he had been expecting, but he wasn’t sure what it _was_ , and watching Thor fidget while he tried to get the words right only made Loki more uncertain.

“Does it ever still bother you?” Thor asked at last.

And Loki blinked. And then took a moment and thought it through. 

When he did answer, it was with a little shrug. “Not terribly. It’s become part of who I am, I guess, and I’m not sure who I would have been without it. But it doesn’t still hurt. Not really. Not most of the time.”

The way Thor looked at him then… Loki had never seen that in anyone’s eyes before. And this was _definitely_ not the conversation he’d been expecting. 

Thor grabbed his hand and squeezed it, fervent.

“Well, I know no one was there for you back then, but I am, now. I just wanted to make sure you know that. I want to take care of you just as much as you’ve taken care of me.”

Loki found himself laughing softly as he shook his head, blinking a few more times, glancing away. Just a moment before he had been afraid Thor was going to… and now he had to go and say something like that. Loki couldn’t possibly be getting misty over it. That was ridiculous. He was fine. He just wasn’t used to hearing that sort of thing, that was all. 

“You shouldn’t have to do that; I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of _you_ ,” he answered. “And anyway it _was_ forever ago. It doesn’t matter.”

But Thor only grinned and held tighter. “But it _does_ matter, and I want to. And you can’t stop me.”

That time there was no point in trying to deny it, so Loki gave in and wiped at his damp eyes, still laughing a little. 

“Thanks, kiddo.”

So Thor stayed, of course. And their lives went on from there.

* * *

_Four years after that_

It was a hot, humid day in the middle of summer, and Thor mopped at his brow with a filthy handkerchief as he got off the el train near the apartment. 

It’d been even hotter in the smithy, of course—one of the last working traditional blacksmiths in the state. It had been a series of lucky accidents that had led him there. The community college welding class he’d taken on a whim because he had always liked working with his hands, even though Dad used to squint and wrinkle his nose and say Thor could do better than manual labor. The instructor who’d had a friend who taught weekend blacksmithing classes, and who had agreed to take Thor on as an apprentice when he turned out to have a real knack for the hammer. A real art with it. Then, the greatest luck that some photos Loki had taken of him and his work had kind of blown up on social media, bringing attention and more work than the shop knew what to do with.

Now, he made things, swords and tools and fancy props and wrought-iron gates for rich people’s houses, and he came home at the end of the day tired and sweaty and covered in ash.

And smiling. 

When he got home, he always peeled down almost as soon as the door was closed, heading for the shower with only a quick kiss blown in Loki’s direction on the way. Only when he emerged, damp and squeaky clean, did he seek out his uncle, leaning over the back of the couch to bother him while he was finishing up his own day’s work.

There was more grey in Loki’s hair now, mostly confined to the temples, and there was a new wrinkle or two on his face.

_(“You’ve aged me, kiddo,” Loki liked to tease._

_“Those are laugh lines, though,” Thor always replied.)_

Thor loved running his fingers through that dark hair anyway, and kissing him like this. 

It wasn’t that there had been no hard times. Of course there had been. 

Times when Thor doubted whether he’d made the right choice. Times when he’d feared that his future would be empty, bleak, full of desperation and despair. 

But it helped, having someone there to tell him that it wouldn’t be. That even if the worst happened, he could make it into a life worth living. Someone who believed in him and let him find out for himself what he could do. Someone who would go along with him and be there for him, no matter what happened.

The deeper fears were harder to let go of. Not just that he might fail, but that if he did, it would mean he was… _wrong_. Unworthy. Those fears had only worn away with time—a slow and gentle wearing like stone smoothing on a streambed—until Thor rarely thought of them anymore and only barely remembered their sharp, rasping pain.

By now, it wasn’t even so bad during his monthly phone calls with his folks, or the twice-yearly visits. It was easier to set it aside when they said things that once would have upset him. It was easier to stand up for himself and believe that he was allowed to do that. 

It was easier to remind himself that he was loved. Truly loved. When he was younger, he hadn’t known what that was supposed to mean. He’d gotten only glimpses on those rare visits, little tastes of happiness, though he hadn’t known why or what it meant. 

But now he did.

* * *

Their lives had continued on, day by day, step by step. Loki’s was much like it had been before. But also completely different.

Loki was getting to watch the path Thor made for himself. He was getting to watch Thor grow up, grow into himself, grow stronger without ever letting it harden him, without losing his sweet, gentle nature. The man Thor had become was beautiful, amazing, and Loki was desperately happy for him. Achingly proud of him. 

For Loki himself… he hadn’t been lying when he’d once told Thor that all that stuff from his past didn’t really bother him much anymore. But it had all left its mark, old habits and deep grooves worn into his soul, and those scars were harder to leave behind. He’d lived with them longer. He’d gotten used to them. He’d spent more than 20 years believing that the best he could hope for was to keep himself alive, alone. Believing that there might be happiness in the world, but it wasn’t meant for him and would never last even if he did manage to grab onto it. 

After five years, it was still there. 

It was there when Loki walked through the door on a warm, humid summer afternoon to find that Thor had gotten back from the forge early that day and was already showered, damp and golden and waiting to slide into his arms and kiss him, as eager and enthusiastic as always, leaning into the kiss in a bid for more. The only difference now was that he’d gotten just as tall as Loki in the last few years, and a good bit broader.

They laughed together when their noses bumped on an ill-timed maneuver, and instead they pulled back enough to talk and figure out what they wanted to do that evening. A movie, perhaps. Or to the bar for a game of pool. Or… 

Loki was still perpetually shocked to find that Thor still had any use for him. That he hadn’t simply outgrown him. 

Maybe it would happen. Some part of him thought maybe it _should_. 

But in the meantime, Loki had someone to love. Someone who—for some reason—wanted him. Someone he could protect and guide, though he hadn't realized he ever would have wanted to. 

For the first time in his life, he had someone to come home to.

* * *

(Art by Schaudwen, colored by me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also have to add special thanks to Schaudwen here. 
> 
> For her [amazing art](https://schaudwenart.tumblr.com/post/614695290571735040/lokisergi-cmon-kiddo-lets-take-a-picture-a), and for graciously allowing me to muck around with coloring it.
> 
> For all the support and reassurance on this fic, without which I am not sure I would have ever posted it.
> 
> For being my partner in thorki crime and just being awesome in general. Ty, bb ♥ ♥ ♥


End file.
